


The Moments In Between

by LaReineDuLune



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Boys In Love, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon Gay Romance, Established Relationship, Fluff, Immortal Husbands, Love, M/M, Tenderness, Tranquility, Warrior Husbands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 23,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25255156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaReineDuLune/pseuds/LaReineDuLune
Summary: It was not always death, violence and blood. There were moments in between where peace and love reigned for Joe and Nicky.A series of romantic one-shots.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 471
Kudos: 1099





	1. Return to Malta

The Moments In Between  
©2020 La Reine Du Lune

Nicky’s exclamation of, “Wow,” came from him in long, ragged exhale just after Joe had eased from atop him to lay at his side. As their laboured breathing calmed and the sweat on their skin gave them a chill, Joe looked across at his lover and smiled.

“Wow? Really?” Joe questioned, feeling rather smug of how Nicky’s eyes remained glassy and unfocused, his limbs weak, and his stomach heavily coated in his own release.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“No, no, it’s just that after nearly one thousand years of making love to you, I didn’t think to still be able to _wow_ you.”

“Believe me, you did, you only get better as the years go by.”

“Good to know.”

“I said, don’t let it go to your head.”

“Well, when you keep complimenting me like that...”

Nicky grinned and slapped lightly at Joe’s thigh. Taking the cue, Joe leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to the apple of his cheek. “Forgive me, my love, I will take care of you.” He was gone, and back a few moments later, to clean and tend to the man he had just thoroughly taken his pleasure of. A few moments after that, Nicky turned to the open window of the balcony of the tiny apartment they’d procured for the month, looking out at the sea on the horizon, past the roofs of the buildings of the city that stretched out beyond the confines of their temporary sanctuary.

Joe eased himself back down to the bed and tucked his knees behind Nicky’s as he pulled him back against his chest. The wisps of his beard teased the back of his dear one’s neck and he buried his nose in Nicky’s hair and kissed his warm skin.

The moon hung low and reflected brilliantly off the waves in the distance while Joe’s hand splayed across Nicky’s chest. In turn the other man’s fingers threaded with his and gripped them tight. The night was warm, as was to be expected of late summers in Malta. They had only a month, as Andy took Nile around various locations over Europe as part of her training. After the affair with Merrick, and Booker, a small vacation had been in order. Both knew their time on the island would be gone in the blink of an eye, so they had made the promise to make the memories they’d take from it during this visit count. They wanted to be able to think back in a hundred years and still remember it as fondly as the other times.

“Are you cold? I could close the balcony doors?” Joe offered when he felt a shiver pass through Nicky, pressing tight against his love’s body. The response he received was Nicky quite suddenly moving away from him to turn himself around and bury his face in Joe’s chest, clinging so fiercely to him that he was both startled and concerned, especially when he felt tears against his skin. “Nicolò? You are troubled?”

“No,” Nicky spoke with a shake of his head. “I am grateful.” Nicky pulled back to look upon Joe’s face against the moonlight, gazing upon the familiar features. The other man wiped his tears away with the pad of his thumb. Nicky caught his hand and kissed the thumb, tasting the salt. “Take me again, won’t you? The feel of you inside me fades too quickly after and I want more, I need you. Yusuf, take me again.”

Joe answered him with a searing kiss, pouring out countless years of love and devotion into him, and they began again.

When Joe awoke late into the next morning for the first second he was wipped by a lash of fear when he didn’t feel Nicky in his arms, only to settle his eyes on him outside on their balcony a second after. The sun was high and Nicky’s skin was beaded again with sweat from it. Joe thought he may suggest they take a swim in the sea later on and then take a long bath to wash themselves clean.

On the dining table their swords were laid side by side in their scabbards with the leather and whetstones they use to sharpen them nearby. Before arriving in Malta they’d circled back to Goussainville to retrieve them. They’d hadn’t much in way of earthly possessions that they’d risk their necks for, but the swords were symbols of who they had been and where they had come from. Moreso they were important because it is how they had met and neither ever wished to forget. Besides that, such excellent weapons were hard to come by.

Joe stretched and made his way to the bathroom first, then outside to join his love and greet the day. Nicky had a sheet wrapped around himself, but he opened it to invite Joe next to him, covering them both as they squeezed in tightly in one of the two chairs. Joe lay his ear to Nicky’s heart as the other man’s arms came around his shoulders.

“Last night…” Nicky began, then faltered for a moment before continuing. “Thank you for last night, it was beautiful.”

“Always.”

“Sometimes I think too much.”

“I know.”

“You do. You always do. No, last night something came over me. I think knowing Andy is facing mortality has brought up the conversations we’ve had in the past. And I meant what I said, I am grateful. No two people in the whole of the history of civilization has had what we share and last night I was consumed by my love for you and the miracle of it. Now I’m maudlin and finding it difficult to be happy because of fear. I love you, Joe… Yusuf, with every molecule that makes me and there are not words or actions in the whole of this world that can fully encompass all of it.”

Joe laughed and kissed his skin. “We are fools for love. Habibi, you are me, and I am you. We are one, not two. Don’t look at Andy and see us in her. Our fate will not be the same as hers. We came into this life together and will leave it together, and even then it will not be the end of us. Do you not know that?”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do. You for all your talk of destiny are you not certain of our fate? Death will not part us. We will die together and arise in the afterlife, together for eternity. Where is your faith?”

Nicky smiled, a little wan and kissed into the curls atop his love’s head. “Here in my arms.”

“Don’t be afraid of what’s to come, Nicolò, we know we do not end. We will hold each other for eternity. Now, what else can I do to brighten your mood? What shall we do for the rest of the day?”

“Just this, please.”

“As you wish, my love.”


	2. Confession

“Did you enjoy Notre Dame?” Joe asked as he felt Nile ease down next to him in the narrow pew before the grand altar. The Church of Saint-Séverin lay in the shadows of the great Cathedral in the heart of the Latin Quarter, but it was no less stunning for its architecture, spiraled columns and newly fashioned stained glass. New to him. They’d put it in during the last century.

“It was amazing! I’m glad we came after the reconstruction was completed. I don’t think it would’ve had the same impact covered in scaffolding,” she replied as her eyes darted around the church, taking it in. She knew this one must have a rich history of its own.

“You know, Nicky and I saw it when it was first being built. It was a marvel then too and took several generations to complete. I like old buildings, the ones that stand against the centuries. I’ve seen too many disappear into history that I thought would outlast even me. Even though it is not of my God, I’m glad it still stands.”

Nile peered into Joe’s lap to see what he was sketching in his notebook. It was a perfect recreation of the rooftops of Paris as seen from the top of Notre Dame where she’d just been standing less than an hour past. But it was not a scene from the present day, but one he knew from memory. Sensing her thoughts, he continued. “We were here again in the 16th century, at the court of Louis the XIV – who was quite insufferably, by the way. We were better acquainted with his brother Philippe and his lover The Chevalier de Lorraine – they were together over fifty years and quite a remarkable couple. They flaunted their love before court. Being the King’s brother afforded Monsieur protection, and he loved The Chevalier like no other, so he was safe too – most of the time. He had a turn in prison at Louis’ behest.”

“Huh.” It hadn’t really dawned on Nile that Joe and Nicky might've known other couples like them that had made history.

Joe shrugged. “He was the King’s brother. Men like me and Nicky had always existed. Long before the Church. In some ways I lament that we weren’t born in ancient times, like Andy. Greece, for example. We’d have joined the Sacred Band of Thebes, and what a force we would’ve been on the battlefield together! I think that is why from time to time, he feels the need to see a confessor. He yearns for understanding and acceptance from a part of his past he cannot quite let go entirely. He was a priest when we met.”

“Hold up, Nicky’s a priest!”

“ _Was_ , he was a priest. Many of the Knights in the Crusades were. It was their Holy mission you understand. It took him considerably longer to shirk the bonds the Church had on him than it did for him to stop trying to kill me. He could not reconcile his desire for me with what he’d been taught. I was very glad when he ultimately chose me instead. It took some convincing.” There was a glint in Joe's eye and a bit of mirth to upward turn of his lips.

“Oh really?”

“Eventually we left the Holy Land and started travelling West together. I may have taken a penchant to bathing nude in every river we happened upon, told him it was a command of Allah that I be cleansed daily. My poor Nicolò, I did torture him far worse than I never did when I ran him through with my sword. I’m not going to make a joke about eventually running him through with another sword!” Nile laughed at his innuendo. Joe sighed, thinking back to those early days. "No, he felt tremendous guilt and conflict, even after we made love for the first time, but eventually he understood that our love was not going to corrupt or condemn his soul, quite the opposite in fact. I think he comes to confess more for me than himself, as if to prove to them that we are right and they are wrong. It’s futile of course – the Church sanctioned the enslavement of Africa, burned innocent women at the stake, tortured people in ways you cannot even fathom during the Inquisition, and so on and so forth, they don’t care. But if he can make one of his former brethren understand, then it is a victory. He wishes to honour me by championing our love, and he does. The gesture touches me deeply, which is why I couldn’t go with you to Notre Dame. I must be here if he needs me. He only does it every fifty years or so. When we passed by this church yesterday he wondered if the same priest still ministered the parish as was during the 1980s when he last confessed. He’s an old man now, he may not even remember Nicky.”

The creak of a door being opened caught their attention and Joe looked to see Nicky emerge from the confessional. He walked over to them, sparing a smile to Nile before he stood before Joe. He then knelt down on one knee before him, bent his head and took Joe’s hand in his and kissed the palm in reverence. Joe set his sketching aside and bent his forehead to his love. They stayed like that for some time, until Nile saw the priest leave his side of the confessional and slink away, pausing to cast a glance at the three of them, his face twisted, but by what emotion Nile couldn’t tell.

Nicky kissed Joe sweetly on the mouth and then rose to his feet. “Are you both ready for dinner? I know it’s only 4 o’clock, but I’m famished. Joe, we could take Nile to Le Procope?”

“I approve, but I lament that it will never be as good as when Francesco was there.”

“He’s been dead for four hundred years, my dear one. The restaurant is still excellent.”

Joe conceded Nicky’s point and gathered up his notebook and pencils, tucking them away in his messenger bag. “We must first go the Bastille to find us all something to wear. Gucci for you Nicky, I think? We can’t go to dinner looking like peasants. Besides, I haven’t seen you in a proper suit since 1943. Do you remember?”

Nicky smiled fondly at the memory took Joe’s hand in his before offering his arm to Nile. “Shall we?”


	3. Under the Olive Tree

Chapter 3

The swimming pool was a little too small to take morning laps in, but Joe made do and used the water’s resistance to work and stretch his body. The sun had barely risen and he’d left the other occupants of the villa to their rest, and his Nicky prone and drooling on his pillow. When he was tired and his muscles heated from exercise, he floated aimlessly on his back and let the morning light kiss his nude body. He smiled to himself when someone broke the water with a flawless dive. He knew who it was. When Nicky breached the surface and pushed his hair from his eyes he swam to Joe and gathered him up in his arms, keeping them above the water as they kissed each other good morning.

“I saw you from the balcony,” Nicky gasped as their lips parted. “I watched until I couldn’t resist touching you. I was right, your lips taste like the sun.”

“Hmm…” was Joe’s only reply as his hands found the other man’s hips and pulled their bodies closer together, pleased to learn Nicky was also naked, as he leaned in to kiss his love with an ardent passion. “Good morning to you too. Are Andy and Nile still sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, that is important.” Joe bumped Nicky’s chin with his nose to tip his head back as he delved for the juncture of his neck and shoulder to suck and bite a satisfying bruise only to watch it fade away from Nicky’s skin moments later. He dragged his lips over Nicky’s throat and jaw as the other man’s eyes closed in surrender. Nicky’s fingers pressed firm into Joe’s lower back as they waded in the water, their feet just barely touching the bottom. When their usual accommodations for laying low were at best were dingy apartments or dusty old safe houses they hadn’t touched in a century, finding themselves luxuriating in a villa was a rare boon. None of them were going let the opportunity to enjoy it to its fullest pass them by.

Furthermore, it gave Joe great peace to have his love so close to the place of his birth again. They had seen every corner of the globe, but Genoa would always be home. He came alive, seeing the verdant orchards and vineyards stretch on for miles over rolling hills. The wine, the food, the language, the art and culture, even the sky above, reminded Joe of the man he’d fallen so eternally in love with. Sometimes coming home was very good for the soul, and being as Joe considered his and Nicky’s soul to be one in the same, it was good for him too.

“You have me _very_ aroused, amore,” Nicky laughed, his lips falling on the bridge of Joe’s nose.

“Yes, I know, I am well aware.” He punctuated his words by slipping his hand down to firmly grip the muscles of Nicky’s rear.

“You left me in bed this morning, Joe. I woke up and wanted you, but you weren’t there.”

“You had me last night, twice.” Joe sucked on Nicky’s bottom lip and swept his tongue between his lips again. As their need for each other became more desperate and their breathing laboured, they guided each other towards the edge of the pool. “How? How are we still like this? One thousand years, Nicolò, and I still cannot get enough of you, I still desire you in this moment as much as our first time. I want you always.”

Nicky smiled and Joe returned it in kind, then in the next second, Joe lifted him from the water with an unmatched strength that left the other man startled and set Nicky on the tile at the pool’s edge. Nicky’s fingers threaded through the wet curls of Joe’s hair down the plain of his face and into his thick beard, his gaze turning sultry and hungry. There was no question as to what was to come next and Joe took Nicky in his mouth and eased him down his throat. They’d done this innumerable times, but as Joe had just spoken, it was always as thrilling and lustful as their first time.

Nicky’s head fell back and he basked in the warmth of the sun’s rays as Joe worked him over, his hips jerking involuntarily as Joe held them in place. Nicky’s hand roamed over Joe’s shoulders, through his hair and down his back. The sounds they made were in great contrast to the chirping of the birds against the silence of the morning. When the breaking point came for him, Nicky moaned low and long as he spilled himself into Joe’s welcoming mouth.

Barely recovered, Nicky felt himself being lowered back into the water and into Joe’s arms. “I liked that very much,” Joe mused. “You sustain me, _hayati_.” Nicky opened his eyes and they stared at each other for long minutes as they drifted.

“You’re hard for me Joe, what do you want?”

“I want whatever you want.”

“In that case, there is an olive grove over the hill. I want you take me there and have me under one of the trees. I want to lay on my back in the grass and feel you inside me while I stare at the sun through the leaves and white petals fall in your hair and on your skin. I want to feel the softness of your beard against my chest and my neck as you kiss my body. I want to hear you tell me you love me in my ear as you fill me with your seed, and I want to fall asleep in your arms until the sun burns our skin.”

“Nicky, you may never again say to me that you are no poet after such words.”

“You inspire me, as you have since I first saw you swathed in robes caught on the desert’s wind, your hair a tangled mess of night…”

“Ok, so your talent is limited after all.” Nicky laughed whole and hearty and Joe kissed him again. “But I will take you under the olive trees and sleep with you in the sun.”


	4. Date Night

Chapter 4

“You know, I have always felt a little funny about lobster,” Nicky mused, poking at a fat piece on Joe’s plate before spearing it with his fork and dipping it in the little pot of melted butter before popping it in his mouth. “They’ll eat you, given the chance. They’ll eat anything. Good flavour though, very fresh.”

“Your objection to lobster is that it will eat you? A lot of animals will. A chicken will eat you, you like chicken.” Joe replied, taking a spoonful of Nicky’s mushroom risotto, nodding his head approvingly at the rich flavour on his tongue.

“No, it is because I wonder if its mate is lonely and misses its other half. Strange creature, no? It mates for life. An alien that lives at bottom of the ocean and lives for upwards of a century, with its lobster mate and I think they are happy, until one is captured and torn from its love and is now on your plate.”

Joe regarded the man across him with a mix of both love and scorn, and then he looked at his half eaten lobster and put down his fork, his appetite suddenly lost. Nicky winked at him. “I’m only teasing.”

Every now and again, they felt compelled to treat each other to a _date night_ , and New York City had a fine selection of restaurants. It didn’t matter if they found themselves a greasy spoon diner, or at a place so upscale that when you left for the evening you simply paid with leaving several hundred dollars on the table, never seeing a check. Joe had wanted to indulge Nicky in a little decadence and after finding a pair of immaculately tailored suits, they now sat across from each other sharing a meal, with comfortable conversation and looks that promised much more than dinner before their night was done.

That was, of course, until two men dressed in black with balaclavas over their faces and guns in their hands burst forth from the kitchen. One immediately made his way to block the exit at the front door to the establishment, taking the panicked hostess as his hostage. Of the thirty or so patrons present at the intimate restaurant, several screamed while others sat in terrified silence. Their plan was not terribly brilliant or complex, the diners were ordered to remove all their expensive jewelry and watches, and the men their wallets and all was to be dropped into the sack the other armed man walked around the restaurant to collect. They threatened the staff with harm if they made any move to intervene or call police. Joe hoped the chef and his kitchen staff were only incapacitated and not killed – the risotto had been second to none.

Nicky observed in silence, his face a stone. Joe waited patiently for their turn and met both the barrel of the gun and the eyes of their would be assailant at the same time.

“You, your wallet, and that necklace,” the criminal demanded.

“I think not,” was Joe’s terse reply. He had not worn a tie and the black silk shirt he had donned under his jacket had its first three button undone, having given Nicky a very enticing view of his chest all evening, and upon it lay the gift he’d given Joe near the beginning of their romance. “My husband gave this necklace to me as a gift upon the night of our marriage after I had pledged myself to him and him alone for all eternity. We said our vows under the moonlight after we snuck into the Al-Omari Mosque in Beirut before we sailed to Cypress. It had been established as a church by the Crusaders to honour Saint John the Baptist before the Mamluks converted it in the 13th century. It was a house of both our faiths. We said our vows before God and forsook all others. He’d traded a jewelery smith the bejewelled silver cross given to him by an archbishop as he passed through Rome to the Holy Land to carry into battle and thus renounced his Priesthood, all to give me this to honour our marriage. It is a symbol of his love for me and mine for him and I would sooner have my head separated from my shoulders than this medallion from around my neck.”

The man with the gun was silent for a moment, not sure of what he’d just heard, before giving his head a shake. “Are you out of your fucking mind? I’ve got a gun on your head, hand it over!”

Before Joe could speak again, Nicky reached a tentative hand across the table and lay it gently over his. “Joe, there are innocent people here.”

Joe sighed. “Very well. Left or right.”

“Your left, if you please.” 

Three seconds was all it took for it to be all over. Nicky had deftly disarmed the one pointing his gun at Joe, and while he needn't have, he had taken the man’s hand and stabbed it through with his dinner fork, penetrating the leather glove he wore and impaled it all the way through the flesh and bone of the palm and fully into the wood of the table. This would’ve been a nearly impossible feat for anyone but Nicky. That one time in a pub in 18th century Scotland was a lesson well learned. Meanwhile Joe had sacrificed his buttery dinner roll and spun its plate clear across the restaurant to have it collide at an alarming speed in between the other gunman’s eyes. Joe had sailed over the table and its diners between him and the door and acquired and dismantled the gun before the other fellow had dropped to the floor unconscious. Once both guns had been liberated of their bullets and wiped down the two men looked longingly at each other from across the room while the restaurant staff and its patrons stared on in stunned silence. 

The noise of approaching police cars brought them out of their trance. Joe made his way back over to Nicky and took him by the hand. “I’m sorry, my love, I’m afraid our date night has come to an end,” he spoke, quite sad that they couldn’t get a moment’s peace, before turning to the maitre’d and pulling a few hundred dollar bills from his pocket. “You understand we rather not be questioned by the police, in fact perhaps we were not here and instead a rather tall blond man and his wife were at this table?”

“Of course, sir! Keep your money, it is no good here!” the man replied emphatically.

Joe bowed his head. “It is most appreciated. C’mon, darling, we have only a minute.”

“Oh, but Joe, I wanted to have their Blackberry Ricotta cheesecake!” Nicky lamented as they made their way through the kitchen, only to halt near the back door where they found a bruised and battered chef standing with a large pasty box, holding it out for Nicky. The look of pure joy and gratitude that came over his beloved’s face did things to Joe’s soul that hadn’t been matched since their first night as lovers. Nicky accepted the box with a _grazie mille_ , as they dashed out the back. 

Sometime later they walked hand in hand towards their present abode, Nicky holding on to the cheesecake as if it were the Holy Grail.

Sensing his thoughts, Joe quipped, “Nicky, you’ll be sick if you eat the entire cheesecake tonight.”

“ _Inshallah_ I will not, my love.”

Joe sighed heavily. “There are few things in all my centuries of life I regret more than teaching you this.”

“ _Habibi_ , I was going to share with you. Joe? Thank you for tonight, I had a nice time. It was a good date.”

“It was, wasn’t it? You’re welcome. But, _mi amore_ , maybe date isn’t over yet?”

A warm smile spread across Nicky’s face, “No, perhaps it isn’t.”


	5. One and Only

Chapter 5

Nicky was pleasantly drunk on what was to his tastes probably the worst homemade tequila he’d ever encountered. The bottle sat on the table in front of him as he sat alone and utterly besotted at the sight of Joe dancing with one of the local girls as the party was slowly winding down. The night was hot and humid and their linen shirts clung sticky and moist on their bodies, but Nicky had a smile on his face. Joe looked happy. When you and your team swept into a small village on the Mexican-Guatemalan border and deftly dispatched a burgeoning drug cartel trying to get a foot hold in the region with the village as the base, and succeeded with minimal damage to everyone and everything, you earned a party in your honour.

Nicky knew Andy had retired to the house they’d been given to stay in – her stamina not what it used to be since losing her immortality, and while she’d mercifully avoided getting shot this go around, she had been pretty banged up. She had insisted, if not ordered, him, Joe and Nile to stay out all night and have fun. So, they had. The village square had come alive with food and drink, lights, colours, and music, and an outpouring of gratitude. They’d gorged themselves on local dishes, danced with every one and had a night of true levity. It did Nicky’s soul good. He’d played with the children until their parents had ushered them off to bed. He’d chatted with the elders with his excellent Spanish and a smattering of their ancient tongue. He’d watched Joe do the same, his heart full to bursting with adoration at Nicky. 

Now it was only the young people remaining, everyone else having gone to their bed. He’d lost track of Nile, but he knew she’d be ok. Joe was a good dancer, his hips moving in a seductive sway as he twirled the black haired young woman around, by the fountain under the string of coloured lights. The music was blaring from speakers set up somewhere. Nicky had preferred it when earlier it had been the musicians with their folk songs, but they’d gone home too.

So, Nicky was drunk and content and barely noticed when Nile dropped down next to him and stole the bottle from his loose fingers and took a long pull.

“Gah!” she made a sound of disgust before taking another drink. “This is shit.”

“Yes, it is,” Nicky grinned in return. 

“Ok, I have a dilemma and I need your advice. And maybe some condoms?” Nicky turned to face her, his eyebrow arched in curiosity. “There’s this super hottie who I’ve been talking to all night – I’ve still got my high school Spanish and he’s being trying to learn English. I know we’re moving out in a day, but it’s been like _three_ years for me, and he is really nice…”

“So go enjoy him for the night. There’s no dilemma, no shame.”

“Right, that’s where I was leaning, and Andy said she’s 99.9% sure I can’t get pregnant now, speaking from her experience, and it’s not like I’ll catch a disease that I can’t treat or die from so…”

“Nile,” Nicky spoke indulgently, “You don’t need our permission. You deserve to have fun, to feel cherished. It’s only natural. Don’t deny yourself, just don’t let it become a bandage on your feelings, like Booker and his drink.”

“It’s just, that I’ve never done this before, a one night stand I’m never going to see again.”

“You will have many firsts, I hope they will be as pleasant as this one may be. There will be many in your future that aren’t.”

“What was it like for you?” A look of confusion crossed over Nicky’s face and he didn’t quite understand what she was asking. “You _know_ , your first one night stand? All those random guys in history you had some fun with?”

“But I am Joe’s.”  
  
“Yeah, I know you and Joe are together, obviously, but hey after a thousand years, maybe you want to choose something different off the menu every now and again, right?”

Nicky suddenly felt quite sober. He couldn’t imagine what his expression was, because he couldn’t form proper thought. He eventually gave his head a shake and pushed the nearly empty bottle of tequila towards Nile and walked away.

It wasn’t long after he’d settled himself away from the party, which was finally dissipating, that Joe found him. He’d sat himself on the bench outside the church and was looking up at the stars. He liked watching the stars, they were the one thing that more or less never changed. He heard Joe approach and stayed quiet in the dark. The other man sat down beside him, close enough that their bodies touched. Joe reached up and swept away the tears brimming in Nicky’s eyes with the pad of his thumb.

“Hush, _mi amore_ , she didn’t understand. She is young,” Joes soothed, leaning over and pressing his lips to Nicky’s cheek, right over the mole Joe _loved_.

“I was upset. I was too abrupt with her. I should apologize,” Nicky whispered with a nod of his head. “I overreacted. It’s just… Joe, I have never done anything that would make it seem like I would ever want anyone else, have I?”

“No, no my love, you haven’t. I explained it to her, I knew you would not mind. I told her about the vows we’ve taken, the promises we’ve made, and how we do not share one another. I know you have been faithful, don’t burden yourself with thoughts that I may have any doubts. I don’t.”

“You’ve been my one and only, Yusuf.” Nicky sighed heavily and leaned against Joe, who in turn put his arms around his shoulders and drew him into his embrace.

“There has been no one else for me but you since the day we met, and long before.”

Nicky smiled. “We probably didn’t really need to just say that to each other, did we?”

“Still nice to hear.”

“It is. It just struck me quite cold that anyone would ever think otherwise.”

“She is a 21st century woman, and you, dear one of my heart, are still a Knight, and an honourable one at that. We are more than lovers, more than husbands, more… we are so much more.”

“Did she go off with her young man?”

“I convinced her, yes. I met him earlier, he’s very nice. She’ll think of him many years from now,” Joe yawned and hugged Nicky closer. “It’s late.”

“Very late.”

“To bed then?”

“To bed, but Joe, I don’t think I want to sleep just yet.” 

Joe tipped his head back and invited the kiss Nicky sought. No, they wouldn’t be sleeping for a while yet.


	6. Calm in the Storm

Chapter 6

“I am truly happy, Joe,” Nicky sighed, closing his eyes as he lay his ear to Joe’s heart. “No, I will say I’ve never been happier than in this moment.” With those words, Nicky could feel Joe’s smile. He could also feel the solid form of Joe’s naked body beneath his, the warmth of his skin and the sparse hair on Joe’s chest beneath his cheek. Breathing in Joe’s scent, one he has known intimately for nearly one thousand years, he finally relaxed completely, sated and peaceful. They’d made love so many times this day alone that they had lost count. Their desire for each other seemed only to grow rather than diminish as the years passed them by. Since arriving they’d barely left the soft bed in their one room cabin. They were so far from society that one would almost think they were at the end of the world. 

Joe’s fingers trailed languidly up and down the length of Nicky’s spine, while Nicky’s fingers stroked Joe’s beard. Nicky dozed listening to the rain pouring outside, down through the thick canopy of the forest on to their roof. The fire in the hearth crackled and spit, filling the room with soft amber glow as the last of the light faded from the day. 

Joe welcomed Nicky’s full weight on him, looked out the window and observed the greens and grays dance outside in the storm. They’d been here a month and had another month to go before they would be reunited with Andy and Booker. They’d agreed upon a year’s separation and that year was nearly up. They were on the edge of growing restless, but had wanted to disappear for a few weeks before they jumped back in into the fray. They’d had the cabin, settled deep into the Cascade Mountains in the Pacific Northwest, for about sixty years. No one knew it existed, not even Andy or Booker. No one knew where to find it, or how to get to it. The road and trail were well camouflaged thanks for their efforts. It was solid and thick, and a fortress against the world outside. They’d spent the better part of a year at the turn of the 20th century constructing it. When they returned for this visit, they’d been relieved no one had stumbled upon it. It was their sanctuary, and they didn’t want to share it.

“You know,” Joe mused, “I think I could stay here for a century with you and forget everything and everyone, and not miss any of it.”

“You would miss pizza, Joe.”

“No, I wouldn’t even miss that. You’re all I need. We live off the land, gather water from the stream. I feel complete here – but only because you are with me. I wish there were words beyond _I love you_ , for I would speak them to you now.”

“Those will do very well, I love you too. A century here would be ok. If that Amazon could deliver. We’d hate to run out of lube.”

Joe snorted on a laugh and Nicky got a good swat to his bare bottom for his sass. A sudden and powerful rumble of thunder rolled through the forest and the rain outside intensified, but their home let no water or wind disturb them.

“Nicky? This is the happiest I have ever been too.” Nicky’s hand left Joe’s beard and settled on his chest, his fingers gently kneading at the firm muscle. “Are you cold, _habibi_?”

“No. Well, maybe a little. Yes. Thank you.” 

Joe fumbled and found a corner of their blanket, pulling it cover Nicky’s legs and shoulders, leaving their tangled feet exposed. “I want to hear my song, Joe. Sing me to sleep?”

Joe’s hand came up to cradle the back of Nicky’s head, and his other hand to his face. They were the only two people a world of seven billion who knew the melody and its words. The soft lilting of Joe’s voice diminished the sound of the rain and thunder as he sang the lullaby he’d known all his life. The words were never translated from their original Arabic, the melody never transcribed. It now existed only between Joe and Nicky, a song that would be lost to time when they were.

Nicky listened and pressed a lingering kiss to Joe’s heart, then let himself surrender to sleep and in that moment his Yusuf was the entire world.


	7. The Other Man

Chapter 7

_1926 - Chicago, IL_

“You ok man?” Booker asked, eyeing the furrowed brow on Joe’s face.

“I’m fine,” Joe responds, but perfunctorily, he didn't mean it. He was silent for a minute and then sighed. “I think my Nicky is angry with me.”

“Why? Because of this job? Because he didn’t get to play mobster and you did? Is he offended that he couldn’t be the Italian even though he is our only actual Italian?”

“No, no, I don’t think so. He is Genoese, and therefore enemy to the Sicilians. They’d know in a minute with his pale skin, sand coloured hair and blue-green eyes with those intriguing flecks of amber near the center. He is so beautiful, my Nicolò. I fit the role better, and my Italian is of course perfect.”

“Took you a while to get the accent right though. You're as Genoese as Nicky at this point.”

They sat in the far corner of the speakeasy at a private table with soft music playing in the background, two gentlemen dressed in pinstriped suits with silk ties, their hair slicked back, and carnations in their lapels. Their beards were also trimmed close to their faces. Joe still scratched at his and had done seemingly every moment over the past two months that he had to consciously stop himself from doing it. The Sicilians were clean shaven and Joe had to shave every other day. He couldn’t wait until the job was over and he could grow it out again. Andy in her slinky cocktail dress served drinks to the patrons of the well known mobster hangout and with the strength born of thousands of years of hard worn battle, stopped herself from breaking their necks every time someone made a pass at her.

They were waiting the arrival of their mark, a Don who was causing conflict between the Families. He didn’t want to unite them, he wanted to obliterate them and have everyone under his control. No one was happy with the foothold he'd had taken in Chicago and the violence was only escalating thanks to this man. Joe had infiltrated their ranks, a smooth talker from Sicily who wanted to make a name for himself, and had an inside man at the Chicago Police Department. Thanks to Joe, several raids on the docks of lake Michigan had made folks a lot of money, all without the police being any the wiser. It was of course a set up and ploy on Joe’s part. They were playing a long game, and his informant naturally was Nicky, who’d joined the police.

“So how do you know he’s angry with you then?” Booker continued, figuring they might as well make small talk while they waited.

“Mmm… his kiss lacks its usually fire and passion, and when he is riding me, normally he looks in my eyes, but these past several weeks he has looked away when we make love.” Booker choked on his drink and began coughing violently. “And then last night he had me take him from behind, when usually we prefer face to face. Still, it was very good, but alas the bruises I leave on his hips as I hold him steady do not last…”

“Silence! Silence, s’il vous plait! Voyon! Taissez-vous!” Booker pleaded. It was bad enough that he had to listen to them fucking all night long in their safe house, he did not need further intimate details.

“Once this is over, I will talk with him and find out what troubles him. I miss his eyes on me when I am inside him.”

“Joe, I am begging you to shut up. I will give you my best bottle of Ricasoli if you please stop talking about fucking Nicky.”

“You have a Ricasoli? What year?”

“1897. I have a stash, in Paris.”

“Nicky would like that.”

“Good. It’s yours if you promise to focus on the job and not mention your lover again tonight.”

Joe frowned again. “He is more than my lover, Booker, you know this. Do not sully him with so paltry a word.”

Booker rolled his eyes, weary with the knowledge he’d have to put up with this ridiculousness for all eternity. He decided not to press the issue further, but offered up,“Husband?”

Joe made another face. “It will do, but it’s still inadequate a description.”

“Hey, are you two hens gonna cluck in a corner all night, or do think maybe you could pay a little attention?” Andy admonished them, under the guise of serving them a pair of martinis. She cocked her head and indicated their mark having just walked in. The plan was to ask for a business meeting and once the time and place has been set, they’d bring in law enforcement to trap the bastard and then they’d all disappear to another life and another set of identities with money in their pockets from the smaller Families who’d hired them to restore balance. It was not their most honourable job, but it would fund better ones in the future. Booker downed his fresh martini in one gulp and they both rose to approach the man and his entourage. He was a Sicilian too and would talk to a supposed fellow countryman like Joe. “Oh shit,” Andy cursed. From the other side of the club the Don’s prime rival had just appeared, flanked by his own group. The two men locked eyes from across the room and Andy sighed wearily, reaching for the revolver she had hidden under her dress. “Son of a bitch…”

An hour later, Andy held the door open as Booker dragged the half conscious and hellishly bloodied Joe into their safe house, unceremoniously dropping him on the floor. Nicky, wide eyed at the sight of them splattered with blood, rose from the chair he’d been reading his book in. “It didn’t go well?” he asked, kneeling down at Joe’s side as he groaned while his flesh mended itself. He pulled Joe into his arms and held him as he slowly returned to consciousness.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Booker snarked.

“The Don is dead, the deal fell through. Your idiot here put himself between the band on stage and a Tommy Gun.”

“I did,” came Joe’s pained affirmation. 

“Hello, _mi amore._ ”

“Hello to you as well, my love. I got a bit hurt, but to be fair, the band was very good and didn’t deserve to die.” 

Nicky knew he’d get more details to the story later, but for the present, he was concerned about Joe’s well being. “You look like Swiss cheese, Joe.”

“What does it matter? When finally I have your eyes on me again. Oh my love, my one and only, why have you forsaken me all these long months?”

Nicky looked between Booker and Andy. “Is he drunk? He almost never drinks.”

“I’m not drunk, Nicolò! You have given me your body every night, but you keep your soul from me. There is a cage around your heart. How? How may I break open its doors?”

“I’m going to bed,” Booker sighed. Weary to the bone and very much not in the mood to listen to the couple mooning at each other on the floor.

“That’s my cue too,” spoke Andy. “We’ll regroup in the morning.”

Nicky sighed and looked Joe in the eye for a long expanse of time before reeling him in for a scorching kiss that left them both breathless. “You shaved off your beard,” Nicky finally answered. “I hate it. I hate it with the passion of a thousand burning suns. For two whole months I have looked at this stranger’s face. I have been looking for my Yusuf and see only this imposter. I know it was for the job, but since it all went south, it has been for nothing. Two months of torment. I close my eyes to you so I can picture you are you were. Your beard is as soft as the wind. But this? This sandpaper is awful. I have burns on the inside of my thighs! Until it grows back I will feel like I am with another man and I _hate_ it!”

“Nicky, are you saying that you feel like you’re being unfaithful to me… with me?”

He nodded, biting nervously on his bottom lip.

“Oh, _mi amore_ , I didn’t know. I thought I was losing you!”

“Never! I’m sorry Joe, I should have said.”

“My love, I will be myself again before the month is done. But until then, if you search for me, find my love for you in my eyes, they are the windows to my soul...”

“I’ll throw in a bottle from Châteauneuf-du-Pape if you both shut up right fucking now!” came Booker’s bellow from the other room.

“What is he on about?” Nicky inquired.

Joe shrugged and pulled his beloved down to him for another kiss. Nicky grimaced at the rasp of Joe’s whiskers against his cheeks, but deepened the kiss nonetheless. He was still his Joe, deep down, no matter how wrong he looked without his beard.


	8. The History Lesson

Chapter 8

“Ah, there you are Nile!” Joe exclaimed as he approached their foundling. Their latest mission had been a success and it was largely due to Nile’s cunning. They’d been in Kosovo and she had casually mentioned she’d never been to Italy, which naturally perked up Nicky’s ears, and 24 hours later she was standing before Michelangelo’s David in the _Galleria dell'Accademia di Firenze_ in Florence. Joe put his arms around her shoulders and gave them an affectionate squeeze. “He his beautiful, isn’t he? The near perfect semblance of a truly perfect man. Santa Maria madre de dios, he captured the very essence of my Nicolò.”

“Woah, woah, hold up! Are you trying to tell me that’s Nicky? You’re joking!” Nile looked over at her companion and scowled at his honest face. “Of course you’re not joking. Ok, I’m gonna need the whole story.”

“I am happy to tell it. When Nicky and I heard about the emergence of Italy as the new artistic and cultural centre of Europe, we were eager to come. Andy and Quyhn left us to go North, insisting we should do as we pleased, and they’d come back to us in a decade or two. It was a magnificent time to be alive. Art, food, music, fashion, it was all coming alive like it never had before. We were so happy and free. But, we also had to be practical and earn a living. I worked on painting commissions for wealthy families, ground stone and mixed paint for other artists – I was quite the alchemist with colour, you know? No one could cure a lapis lazuli blue quite like I could. Nicky, of course had little trouble finding work as a model. Michelangelo fell in love with him at first sight.”

“Yeah, he seems to inspire that in men, _and_ women. Like that waiter at breakfast this morning you wanted to murder for looking at Nicky’s ass.” The began circling the statue and looking up Nile had to admit, Nicky did have a pretty cute tush. She lost herself in the story as Joe recounted it to her. He painted the pictures in her mind as surely as he had canvases centuries ago. He told her of their home, their friends, the political intrigue and rivalry between Florence and Rome, the powerful and dangerous circles they ran in, it was better than anything Nile had ever read in a book.

“So, when Michelangelo was but twenty-six years old, he was commissioned to do the piece and implored Nicky to be his muse. He spent hours sketching every inch of Nicky’s body, learning with his eyes that I knew with my hands, my mouth, and my…”

“TMI, dude. More art history, less perving.”

Joe laughed and continued. “Well, as you can imagine, Michalangelo also being of mine and Nicky’s sexual persuasion, wanted my Nicolò for himself. One evening he got a little too free with his hands and had to be put in his place. I didn’t need to defend Nicky’s honour of course, he took care of things himself. But for the next two years as Michalangelo brought the David to life, I was there in the studio as chaperone. He hated me. So much so, he designed a statue of Lucifer and made it in my image. I was very proud. I may have contributed to pissing him off by _allowing_ him to catch Nicky and I in several _private_ situations.”

“Oh, so you have an exhibitionist streak? Is that what you’re telling me?”

Joe shrugged. “I merely wanted to make it clear that Nicky was mine and mine alone. Nicky certainly didn’t have any objections. Still in the end, it was all worth it to have this testament to my beautiful Nicolò that may stand long after we are gone. He didn’t get the face quite right, but towards the end he was less enamoured with the project and his obsession with Nicky waned. But, everything else is an immaculate recreation, except for of course the most obvious part.”

Nile grinned. “Yeah, I kinda figured Nicky made it out of puberty. What’s the deal with the tiny penis? It’s on like, all the statues.”

“Ah! Another history lesson for you. In Ancient Greece, society adopted the idea that if your penis was large, you were driven by your baser instincts. You were a brute consumed by the need for sex, had a lust for violence, and so on. If you were well endowed you were an idiot, an ignoramus, truly stupid. If you were a great intellect, a philosopher, a politician, your brain was your largest organ and therefore your other organ was not. That tradition continued into Rome, and down through the Ages and into the Italian Renaissance.”

“So what you’re saying is…”

“The Ancient Greeks would’ve considered my Nicky to be a profoundly stupid man, yes.” Joe winked at her and Nile burst out laughing. “Deeply, deeply stupid. I cannot emphasize enough how stupid. Possibly one of the most stupid men in all of Europe.”

Nile was still howling with laughter when Nicky and Andy rejoined them, bearing ice cold Lemon Sodas for them. Joe accepted his with a kiss from Nicky’s lips.

“What’s so funny?” Nicky asked.

“Joe was just telling me about your modelling days,” Nile replied as she took a sip from her straw and pointed at the statue.

Nicky sighed wearily. “Michelangelo was a brilliant artist, but he was no gentleman. He upset Joe. The money was good, but I didn’t like him.” Nile kept smiling at him and he narrowed his eyes first at her then at Joe. Nicky bristled and the three of them laughed at him. “Joe, you shouldn’t be so childish.”

“What so the thing about Greeks and their intellect isn’t true?” Nile asked.

“No, it’s true,” Andy provided. “For the record, I’ve spent centuries hanging out with them, Nicky is as stupid as Joe will have said.” She winked at Nicky and he glared at her. 

“I am only moderately more stupid than the average man.”

“Liar,” Joe said around his straw.

“Oh? In that case you are stupid as  Bucephalus, Joe.”

“Flirt.”

“Wait, who’s Bucephalus?” Nile asked.

Andy grinned, “Alexander the Great’s horse.”

Nile choked on her drink.


	9. A Night in the Desert

_1118, The Northwestern Maghreb_

It was at the pinnacle of his ecstasy that the tears came unbidden to Nicolò’s eyes. As Yusuf pulsed inside him, his hips still undulating and seeking the deepest part of him and Nicolò’s own release finally came to him. He was overwhelmed and began to sob. Had the moment not been the culmination of decades in the making, perhaps he would not have broken so completely, but he had been and caged Yusuf so fiercely with all four limbs that he feared he’d crack his bones.

“Nicolò, Nicolò, my beautiful Nicolò,” Yusuf moaned, low and hot until the weeping of the man under him penetrated through the haze of his orgasm. Outside their tent the music and revelry played on and the group of Bedouins they travelled with were none the wiser. The two men had been in each other’s circle for nearly two decades, and when the cut of their blades no longer sated their desire for bloodshed, their passions turned quickly to each other. It was, to say the least, not a clear path from enemies, to friends, to lovers, but they had reached their destination in the end. Over the decades momentary glances and soft, brief touches soon became long and lingering. Nicolò wrestled with many a demon and Yusuf was unerringly patient. They had left the Holy Land and began to traverse the land towards the Maghreb and Yusuf’s homeland. They passed throughIfriqiya and it wasn’t until they were hundreds of miles beyond that Yusuf had told Nicolò they it was where he had been born. _“If I had told you, my dear one, you would’ve insisted I see my family, you would’ve sent me back to them because you thought it would be where I belonged or that I could be happier with them, set up with a wife I could never love and children I would have laboured to grow aroused enough to sire. You are still uncertain of yourself, my brave_ _Nicol_ _ò, who would’ve driven me away because you loved me. I chose to be selfish, I chose you. One day you will choose me too and have no more doubts.”_

They first kissed at sunset, alone in the desert, and knew they were men made a new. In their own way they had born each other into a new life and knew down to their souls that they would not be parted, and it seemed not even by death.

The truth of Yusuf’s words, and their one embrace had plucked another demon from Hell for Nicolò to wrestle with. He worried himself sick that should he let go of his long held ideas about the sin of laying with another man, and all he’d been taught to hate about Yusuf and his people, that he would be letting go of God. They encountered a caravan of Bedouin women, with their children and elders, but few men of age, who wished to journey west. Yusuf suggested they offer themselves as body guards and follow them to the edge of continent. From there the pair could decide their path. An agreement for payment was reached, and they set off. Many weeks between desert and ocean had given both men time to consider their relationship, setting aside the stark reality of immortality. If they were to spend eternity together, they would have to reach an understanding. Yusuf was plain with his desires but Nicolò remained conflicted.

One night group of bandits had attacked and Nicolò had been on first watch while Yusuf slept in the tent they shared. He had died, but not before he’d slaughtered the lot amongst the cries of the women and children. By the time Yusuf came for him, saif at the ready, Nicolò was already coming back to life. No one troubled them as Yusuf let him away from the bloodshed, leaving the older men to collecting the bandits' horses and wares for themselves. Nicolò was their hero and Yusuf assured them he was only wounded.

The next day they caught up to another caravan, and the group doubled. There were younger men among them now and they were relieved from standing guard and given leave for the night. With so large a group it was only natural they wanted to celebrate and make merry, so after their meal, Yusuf and Nicolò disappeared. There was nothing to precipitate the shift in Nicolò, but it came to him instantly once they erected their tent and went inside. There were no words between them, just Nicolò hunger for Yusuf and the obliteration of his resistance.

Now, hours later, the pair who’d been coupling together the better part of the night, cleaved to each other in the aftermath of making love fully for the first time. Mouths and hands did not compare to the brilliant fire set light in them by joining as one. It burned Nicolò from the inside until he’d been consumed, and now he wept openly and marvelled at what a miracle his life had become.

“Shh, _habibi, rohi_ ,” Yusuf soothed in Nicolò’s ear. He went to separate them, but Nicolò would not let him go. Yusuf relented and sunk down upon his lover and let himself go heavy. He kissed away the trail of tears down Nicolò’s neck and tasted the salt on his cheeks. “Why do you weep? What wrong have I done you?” Yusuf stared down him and wiped his tears away with the tips of his fingers.

“I am happy, you fool,” Nicolò choked out, and took a shaky, watery breath. “I was the second son, with no hope of a future, who fled to the priesthood to escape the prospect of marriage. A boy who punished himself bitterly for wanting to lay with men, who begged God to change his nature. A young man who fled to the Holy Land to seek his death to end the torment of what he had been taught was a sinful evil, and is now here, taken and breached by a man in desert and I’m happy!”

“I’ve pleased you then? Not broken your mind?”

Nicolò nodded emphatically and kissed Yusuf, licking into his mouth and sucking on his bottom lip. “For the first time in my life, I feel as though I am whole. I am loved and love in return. And for the love of all God’s creatures under Heaven, tonight you’ve quenched the thirst of a lifetime! I’m so happy, Yusuf. I love you, I love you.”

“I’m relieved. I love you too, beyond words. _Habibi,_ I was worried I’d upset you.”

“Not at all.”

“No crisis of faith? No denying me come morning? No regrets?”

“None. I am as God made me and I am perfect. Finally, _finally_ , I know this to be true.”

“You are very brave, my love. Few men are as remarkable as you. You’ve made peace with your God?”

“I have.”

“I am glad.”

Nicolò had relaxed, all the fury of emotion drained out of him. When Yusuf made to move, he realeased him. Having waited to be filled for so long, the emptiness with the loss of Yusuf inside him was almost unbearable to Nicolò, but they were a mess from the oil they’d used and their spilled seed. Reverently Yusuf cleaned them both and when they settled for the night, it was with Yusuf holding Nicolò back to his chest, arms secure around his body.

“Thank your God for me, Nicolò. He has indeed made you perfect, and he has made you mine.”


	10. Lost and Found

Chapter 10

Nile was on sensory overload and chattered constantly as she devoured her lunch in the Comptoir under the famed glass pyramid at the Louvre. It was their third day touring the museum, Nicky and Joy having advised their young protégé that they needed a full week to see everything and she was game. After all, they were immortal and had all the time in the world. Joe leaned back and cracked his spine over the back of his chair, smiling when Nicky’s hand came to rest on his inner thigh under the table. They’d toured the Medieval section that morning before pausing for lunch. They’d seen the Egyptian, Greek and Roman sections on the first day, then dove into the great hall on the next so Nile could see the Mona Lisa, and listen to their stories about the real inspiration behind it, the one historians were completely oblivious to.

The little detour to Paris had cemented the bond the two men had been developing with their new one. Andy was off doing her own thing, and they suspected that included checking up on Booker. With her mortality ever looming, they couldn’t begrudge her wanting to keep some sort of connection. It still left Joe fuming and Nicky despondent. The remedy was to show Nile the sights.

Nile downed the last of her sandwich, the best she’d ever had she claimed, and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Where to next!” she asked, popping up to her feet. Her youthful energy was infectious. 

“A section near and dear to my heart,” Joe explained, taking her hand in his and giving the other to Nicky to take hold of. 

“It is near and dear to mine as well, _habibi_ , just as you are,” Nicky spoke, bringing Joe’s hand to his lips to bestow a kiss on it. “Come, Nile, we are going to look at the art of Islam from Northern Africa and the Middle East. You will be able to picture Joe as he was when we first met. I took one look at him and was lost.”

“Yes, because I ran you through with my sword, beloved,” Joe countered.

“This is true, but I still abandoned myself to you in that moment and every one since. Destiny, _hayati_ _.”_

“Now who’s the incurable romantic?”

Nile sighed happily, still in love with watching them be in love. She wasn’t sure when the bloom would come off that particular rose, but so far, she just thought they were the cutest damn couple on the planet. Considering they literally had the world’s most enduring, happy, and successful marriage, it was pretty easy to get on board with it. The Islamic area was bright and spacious, lacking the sardine can of tourists that surrounded Da Vinci’s works. She felt a wave of peace come over her as she breathed in the cool air and felt the diffused sunlight from above on her face. She saw Joe in every manuscript, in every carving, in every pattern. She’d never really taken the time to appreciate him beyond the person she took at face value, but presented with his history and his culture, she was overwhelmed with love for it.

“Come, Nile,” Nicky motioned, “There is more downstairs.”

The level below was quite different than the one they’d just vacated. The room was equally as vast, but it was cold and dark, exhibition lights illuminating nothing but the sole piece they were meant to feature. They split up to relax, take their time and enjoy the atmosphere. It felt sacred and quiet and Nile took in everything with complete and utter wonder. She was going to be sure to ask them to take her to Northern Africa after this. Once an hour had passed she went in search of her companions. She spotted Nicky’s back at the far end of an exhibit of jewelry. 

As soon as she stepped from the darkness into the light, she saw his shoulders are shaking. She looked at his face and saw tears streaming down his cheeks. She looked furtively around for Joe but didn’t see him. When she touched Nicky’s arm, he made a pained, wet gasp. 

“Find Joe for me,” he begged. “Please, straight away Nile.”

She nodded and the next thing Nicky knew was that his husband was by his side. “My love?” Joe questioned, laying both his hands to Nicky’s body.

“Look, Joe, look,” Nicky spoke. “Lost to us for a millennium, and now, here it is.”

Both Nile and Joe followed Nicky’s intense gaze, to settle upon a carved ring of silver. Nile saw the change in Joe instantly. He reverently lay his right hand to the glass and Nile knew why Nicky was being so emotional. The twin to the ring in the display case rested on the ring finger of Joe’s right hand.

“It’s my wedding ring,” Nicky explained. “I lost it in Aleppo not long after we first married. We got into a skirmish with a group or bandits. One of them cut off my fingers before he killed me. I healed of course, but they stole my ring. There has been the phantom knowledge of it on my hand ever since. It is more than just a token of my Yusuf’s love for me. It’s a symbol of our marriage. It’s _mine._ It’s _ours._ I want it back. I want it back.”

“We will take it back, I swear it,” Joe assured him.

“So what, we smash the glass and make a run for it?” Nile asked.

Joe shook his head. “It’s tempered glass, you’d break your fist. We’ll need a plan. My love, I’ll swallow my pride and ask that Booker help. This is more important. I’ll accept no argument.”

“Booker?” Nile asked, the shock evident in her voice.

Joe shrugged. “Best man for the job. He can disarm their security protocols. He spent a few decades funding our travels stealing priceless paintings and artifacts from museums and private collections. The Mona Lisa? A forgery. The real one’s in a billionaire’s basement in Berlin.”

“Well damn, I’m making the call.”

  
When all was said and done, the team stood together in Notre Dame Cathedral after pulling off a heist that would confuse and confound the art world, the French government, and the press for years to come. At three o’clock in the morning with the moonlight streaming through the stained glass windows, together with the members of their family, Yusuf Ibrahim Muhammad Al-Kaysani once more pledged himself in marriage to Nicolò di Genova. As they kissed, just as they had done centuries before, Joe slipped the ring that matched his own back on the hand of his husband’s where it belonged.


	11. Penance

This one's rather on the angsty side, a heavy dose of hurt but with a heavy dose of comfort.   
  
**Trigger warning** : self harm, and mentions of rape/child abuse

  
  
Chapter 11

Yusuf had been nearly at his wit’s end, his heart broken and his soul in agony for want of his Nicolò. He had disappeared nine weeks passed and Yusuf had nearly given up hope, until he came across a group of travellers who told him of a mad Christian wandering the desert, who had refused their offer of food and water, asking instead that they kill him. They let him be after days of trying to convince him to take part of their kindness. Yusuf knew the incident at the village had disturbed Nicolò a great deal, but not to the extent that he would run away into the night and away from him.

It was almost a year to the day since they’d first met on the battlefield, all fire and fury and killing blows. It had been twelve weeks since their unlikely friendship had evolved into something more. They had been travelling for those weeks away from carnage and death, agreeing to escape together into a new life to figure out their futures and the nature of their immortality. They had made love and spoken the words of it. Then, they’d come upon a small fishing village on the shores near the border with Egypt. There they found a band of Franks in the act of raiding the village. There were horrors to which Nicolò had been naïve before that, specifically the pervasive avarice for the rape and murder of women and children that his former fellowship displayed before them. The men of the village were dead, having been unable to defend themselves. All that were left were vulnerable innocents and instead of thieving and looting before moving on, the band of so called Christians wrecked brutality upon those remaining. There had been no mercy.

In the wake of Yusuf and Nicolò slaying every monster they could, they were left with nothing but the haunted wails of mothers clutching dead children. They’d moved on quickly after that and Nicolò disappeared two days later, escaping their shared tent and leaving everything he owned and Yusuf behind. Not knowing which direction his beloved had gone and being unable to follow any tracks, he had been at a loss. The moment he’d realized Nicolò had left, Yusuf felt has if half his heart had ceased to beat. He set out on a lonely, impossible quest to find his beloved, for he knew him, down to bones, and his Nicolò was suffering.

When Yusuf finally laid eyes on him again, his stomach turned and he nearly fainted. Nicolò lay in the sand naked as the day he was born, miles from anyone and anywhere, emaciated with his skin blistered under the unforgiving sun. He was dead, either of thirst or starvation, and Yusuf wept at the sight of him. Carefully, he’d gathered him up, wrapped him in robes and carried him to one of the horses, climbing up behind him and cradling him close as they rode on. There was a twitch of life to the body he protected, and Yusuf cried all the more. They rode through the night until they came upon an oasis that Yusuf knew of from years past as a traveller and merchant. Mercifully they were alone and he erected their tent prior to taking Nicolò’s still body into the water to bathe him. He wrapped him in their blankets, and lay him to bed and waited while a single flamed burned low from the oil lamp they carried.

When Nicolò’s eyes finally opened the first thing he saw was Yusuf.

“You should have left me to the desert,” Nicolò whispered.

“I think you’ve suffered enough, don’t you?” Yusuf replied, reaching for Nicolò’s hand, but unable to clasp it before Nicolò withdrew it.

“No.”

“You are not the living embodiment of every Frank that has come to our shores, _habibi_. How many women have you raped? How many children have you slaughtered?” Nicolò closed his eyes and hid his face away from the empathy in Yusuf’s. He did not believe he deserved to be looked upon by someone so benevolent as Yusuf. “I know the answer is none, but you knew? What your soldiers did to our innocents?”

“In the abstract only. Part of me refused to believe, and then after that day in the villiage, there was no denying it.”

“No, there is no denying it. I grieve for your loss, of the world you knew before this one, when you felt whole and safe. I often wish you’d stayed in Genova and been spared this awful torment of your beautiful soul.”

“Our quest is evil. It’s bloodthirsty, barbaric and arrogant. Christ would abhor what has been done in his name. My people are the evil ones, not yours.”

“That is the truth. But you only knew what you were taught, now you have learned differently. The answer shouldn’t be to defile yourself like this, to run mad into the desert to mortify your flesh, to punish yourself for the crimes of others. You lay your sword before me as surely as I did mine before you. Long before now you saw the futility of war, and its casualties beyond the soldiers on the battlefield. _You_ are a good man, Nicolò di Genova. I cannot entertain any argument saying otherwise. Besides, I love you very much, with every fibre of my being, and it causes me great pain to see you suffer.”

“I would never willingly cause you to suffer, Yusuf, that is why I left. You do not deserve to tie yourself to such a wretched monster for all eternity. I am a criminal, I am the same as them, perhaps not as awful, but cut from the same cloth nonetheless. Bury me in the sand and leave me. Bury me so deep that I could never crawl to the surface. Fill my lungs with sand and leave me to die a thousand more deaths. There is no absolution for my sins.”

“You want me to be your judge and executioner then? It’s to me to decide your fate? I will speak for all my people?”

“Yes.”

“Then look me in the eyes Nicolò di Genova as I deliver your penance.” Nicolò did as he was bade and turned his eyes to Yusuf’s. “Swear to me that you will accept my next words as absolute.”

“I swear.”

“Swear to God.”

“I swear to God.”

“Then here they are. Nicolò, from this day forward I charge you with this – You are to be my moon when I am lost in darkness; my warmth then I shiver in cold; my water of life when I am parched. You will be my protector, my friend, my lover, and my husband. You will spend our eternity in my embrace and you will fill your heart with my love and joy and give me the same in return. Cut your cloth from the world you were born into and weave it together with mine. You and I will ride the waves of the sand and water and in our wake we will leave the bodies of evil men bathed in their own blood if they have ever harmed an innocent. You will be whole and you will be good, and you will learn to forgive yourself, as I have forgiven you.”

“I do not deserve…”

“You swore to God, Nicolò.”

He pressed his lips together, chapped and cracked as they were and paining him. His face crumpled and he wept. Yusuf sighed and lay himself down. He drew his love into his embrace and held him. “Do you love me?” Yufuf asked.

“More than anything, Yusuf. I love you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I know, _habibi_. I am sorry too.” He kissed Nicolò’s forehead and cradled him to his chest. “There is place I should like to take you. Perhaps you have heard of it? It’s an island where Muslims, Christians and Jews alike mingle and trade together. It is by no means perfect but there is far less strife there than the rest of the Mediterranean. It’s called Malta.”


	12. The Anniversary

“Do you know what tomorrow is, _mi amore_?” Joe asked as he dotted kisses along the column of Nicky’s neck from his shoulder to his jaw. He held him close and even though their lovemaking was finished for the evening, he still craved the taste of his husband’s skin on his lips. He ran his fingers through the long tresses of Nicky’s hair. He hadn’t cut it in at least a year and it was nearly down to his shoulders. He also hadn’t shaved in nearly two weeks and his beard had come in. It was a keen reminder of how Nicky had looked when they’d first met, and had at least a hundred years afterwards. Their first century had been an ecstatic time for them, always passionately in want of the other on a seemingly endless honeymoon. To their delight and solace, that passion had never waned.

“It’s Wednesday, and the 21st of the month?” Nicky replied, tilting his head back against the pillow to allow Joe to do as he pleased. Both recognized they should probably make their way to the bathroom to clean up before they fell asleep, but neither could make his body comply. They were too worn out and too satisfied to move. They’d deal with the consequences in the morning with fresh sheets and a hot shower together.

“No, well, I mean it is, but no, it is the Day of Saint Agnes of Rome.” Joe kissed Nicky’s cheek and grinned at him in the dark of their bedroom. The apartment they were presently sharing with Nile and Booker was small, and the bedrooms even smaller, but it was a place to rest for the time being. So many years had passed and Booker had returned to them long before his sentence of _one hundred years of solitude_ had ended. James Copley was long dead, and remarkably Andy was not, and nor was her steadfast and mortal love Quyhn. Both may have been mortal, but age had not come upon them like as expected. They were elderly, but not decrepit. No one in their declining year stood with their backs so straight or their thoughts so sharp. But, their time was coming and the two had retired together to a quiet part of Europe to simply enjoy the passage of the years they had remaining and had left the world behind. It hadn’t seemed a likely choice for either, but they were content.

Nicky nestled back against his husband and kissed his bicep as he commandeered it for his pillow for the night. “Ah! I have always felt heartbroken for innocent and pious Saint Agnes. I shall have to find a church and light a candle in her honour. Perhaps Nile would like to come with me…”

“No, that’s not what I meant…” Joe sighed, splaying his hand across Nicky’s stomach, pulling him even tighter to him.

“Of course, how foolish of me. Shopping day! I promised I’d add cherry preserves to the list and I have forgotten again. I’ll get up and write it in straight away. Two weeks since I promised to get them for you and I keep forgetting, _dios_ , I must be getting old, eh? So forgetful…”

“No, Nicolò…” Joe protested, but Nicky was already pulling away from him.

“Thank you for reminding me.” And he was gone.

The next morning, Joe hoped it would dawn on his beloved the significance of the day, but he’d wakened alone and found only Booker downstairs, watching something inane on his tablet. Technology was ever advancing and the 3D image that was being projected of the football game was still a marvel to behold.

“Hey Joe, your husband left you breakfast,” Booked spoke, indicating to the plate of pastries and fruit on the counter. “If you’re free later tonight, I need your help with a job?”

“Um, I’m not sure…” Joe began. He hoped fervently that he and Nicky would have plans later, but it appeared his dear husband had entirely forgotten they were meant to be celebrating. Joe lost his appetites for the beautifully array of offerings Nicky had left for him. His stomach twisted and he felt carved out. Surely his Nicolò wasn’t so distracted as to forget?

“Nicky said you’d be free though. He and Nile won’t be back until dinner, something about a Farmer’s Market and then a theatre in the park this afternoon? Maybe it was after dinner now that I think about it. Anyways, he said you were free.”

Joe stared blankly at the floor. So that was that. There would be no celebration, not affirmation of their love and marriage, no special acknowledgement of the greatest milestone in the entire history romance, just Nicky out with Nile and him stuck with Booker on a _job_ of all things. With a sigh, Joe took a seat.

“It’s a dead easy job,” Booker explained, “The mark is supposed to hand off a memory drive to their contact. I’ll distract them, you pick their pocket, under the guise of being a clumsy waiter or something, you can improvise. You were always a much better pick pocket than me. I’m 99.9% sure there won’t even have to be any violence. Easy in easy out. What do you say?”

“A waiter? At a restaurant?”

“No, no, it’s at a wedding, we’re not even crashing it, really, I got an invitation off my contact. He’s one of the young ones Copley vetted before he died. Well, he’s not young anymore, he’s in his fifties, but we can trust him. The info on the drive contains the names and proof of behind the scenes actions of several corrupt officials in the USA who’re trying to upset the peace they’ve had for the past sixty years. Fascists. You _hate_ fascists.”

“Everyone hates fascists, or they should. So how am I getting in?” Joe frowned. He couldn’t imagine a worse setting than a wedding considering his disappointment.

“Already done, you’re on the list, you just have to show up in your tuxedo and make your entrance to the back of the courtyard at the chateau to join the catering crew.”

Joe shrugged, resigned. “Sure, let me look at the brief.”

“Thank you, brother.”

They walked the long block from the train station to where the chateau was located. Several vehicles passed them the night took on a chilly air. Monte Carlo was still a beautiful country and that would never change, but January was not a warm month. Joe wished he’d brought a coat. So many of the places Joe and Nicky had visited were lost to history, but some old streets never changed. People still had reverence and appreciation of the past, and that warmed Joe’s heart, even if the weather didn’t. It would take some time for him to get over Nicky’s lack of appreciation on this day, but he would, eventually. Perhaps though, not for a long while.

At the least, he looked nice in his tuxedo, and Booker cleaned up well in his own suit. They crossed the road and came upon the back wall surrounding a small chateau. It was charming. It must be a small wedding as judging by the size of the home, the courtyard wouldn’t be vast.

“Through there,” Booker pointed towards and opening in the wall. “The corridor’s dark, but you should see a light at the end of it. There’s a gate to go through, but it’ll be unlocked. The wait staff is there. I’m going around to the main entrance to mingle with the guests. You got everything straight? Get eyes on me and I’ll give the signal when I’m heading to the mark.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good.” Joe sighed and looked up at the stars. It was a beautiful night. It was meant to be the most beautiful night of all time, but instead it was nothing more than a job.

“Joe, what is it? You’ve been distracted all day. Can I count on you?”

“Yes, sorry.”

“C’mon, tell me.”

“It’s nothing. Today was an anniversary for me and Nicky, and he forgot and I didn’t.”

Booker lay his hand on Joe’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“I’m sorry, man. Tell you what, after the job, we’ll go out drinking, drown your sorrows.”

“You don’t drink anymore.”

“No, but you can still get yourself drunk. I’ll carry you home and promise not to drop you on your head.”

Joe shook his head and smiled at his brother’s attempt to cheer him up. “Thank you, but I’ll be ok. All right, let’s do this, shall we?”

Walking down the dark corridor, Joe could hear music playing. There was a harp, which was lovely, a but also a soft lulling beat from… was that a Darbouka? With an Oud? Was someone in the wedding party of Maghreb descent? He followed the light and the scent of sweet fruits, bread and spice. Perhaps the evening wouldn’t be a complete loss if he could again have the traditional dishes of his homeland on his tongue and listen to the music. Upon passing through the heavy wrought iron gate, the sight that met him took his breath away. There was a small troupe of musicians tucked away in one corner, playing their soft songs, to one side there was a table full to bursting with food, while another held champagne on ice. All around them were wisteria trees, remarkably all in full bloom, cascading around the courtyard in a canopy of whites and shades of mauve. Tiny lights were woven within their branches, and colourful lamps illuminated everything in blues, while fires burned low in cauldrons to warm the air.

The there in the middle of all that beauty, waiting for him, was by far the most exquisite jewel in all the world, his darling, devoted and devastating Nicolò. He wore white in contrast to Joe’s black. He looked as radiant and angelic as anything Heaven could’ve made, and he was smiling at Joe with such mirth in his eyes that Joe was instantly moved to tears. Beyond Nicky he spied Booker, and Nile, and remarkably, Andy and Quynh too.

“You thought I forgot, didn’t you?” his Nicolò spoke, his voice full of amusement as he pointed an accusing finger at his Yusuf. “You thought I forgot our anniversary. Our one thousandth’s anniversary.”

Joe cleared his throat and quickly wiped the tears from his eyes, “No, no of course not,” he defended, but quite weakly.

“One thousand years since the day we met, on the Day of Saint Agnes, and you were convinced it had slipped my mind? Really Yusuf, one thousand years? Really?” Nicky was laughing at him and Joe was so happy his tears started a new.

“All right, all right, yes!” he confessed, “Satisfied? I am a faithless, gormless, genuine idiot to have ever doubted you.”

Nicky finally showed him mercy and closed the gap between them, taking Joe in his arms and kissing him with such fire, Joe was certain he’d ignite in flames on the spot.

“One thousand years! One thousand years, Yusuf, and my love for you is more ardent than ever. You are the whole of my soul, every beat of my heart, the blood in my veins, my everything. One thousand years ago on this very day, I set my sights on you and you set yours on mine. Our first deaths were by own swords through our flesh and we were reborn that day, the course of ours lives changed for all eternity, our souls made one. How could I forget?”

“Judging by all this, you didn’t. How long have you been planning this?”

Nicky looked up at the stars, then back into Joe’s eyes. “About as long as it took to grow my hair. I wanted to look like I did when we first met, when you first fell in love with me. I wanted to give you something special. I wanted to show you how much I love you, and to celebrate that love with our family. I also bought the chateau.”

“Pardon me?”

“Come morning you’ll understand why. The man who built it was from Morocco. Now it’s not quite like your homeland, but the interior is reminiscent. I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. From our bedroom, you can see the ocean. It’s ours, well the family’s but it’s in our names. If we’re going to pause for a little while, I wanted us to have a home.”

“You… you… Nicolò, you are… I haven’t the words, you are a… hold on, we own a chateau and you’ve had us living in that postage stamp of an apartment for six weeks?”

Nicky nodded his head. “And I convinced Booker and Nile to go along with it, all so everything could be perfect for tonight. I feel this is probably the moment where I should ask if you’ll marry me. Again. I know we’ve done it a dozen times at least, but marry me tonight? We’ll say our vows, whatever comes to mind, with our family beside us. We’ll listen to music, eat our fill, and then we’ll go to bed and have each other until we are sated and asleep in each other’s arms.”

“After all this time you still surprise me, my beautiful Nicolò. Yes, of course I will marry you, every day for the next one thousand years.”

Nicky’s smile could’ve lit up the night as he pulled Joe to him, kissing him again and laughing as he did. Joe felt his heart fill near to bursting with love for his one and only, his eternity, his Nicky.

  
  
_Give Nicky a bit of scruff with this hair and there yah go!_


	13. Soulmates

“Generally speaking, you would not consider me a stupid man, correct?” Nicky asked, offering Joe the cup of tea he’d made for him, before settling down beside him on the couch with his own mug. He pressed himself close to his husband and leaned into him when Joe wrapped his arms around his shoulder and drew him near.

“You’re ostensibly one of the most intelligent men on the planet, my heart,” Joe laughed, taking a sip of the warm liquid and making a sound of approval at its flavour. “How many PhDs do you have?”

“Only the seven. Psychologically speaking, I’m quite clear and precise, never confused or irrational?”

“No, of course not. Sometimes after a nightmare, which is perfectly human, you dwell on it for a day longer than I’d like, but you work through your feelings, and you speak with me, you never hide from me. Where is this coming from? What is on your mind?”

“I do not relate to Nile’s generation.”

“You’re nearly one thousand years older.”

“Yes of course, but it is not her specifically, it is others of her age. There was man last night who propositioned me when she and I were at the coffee shop when we went to get the pastries Andy wanted.”

“You didn’t say.”

“No, I thought nothing of it at the time. I’d forgotten by the time we were home. But now I replay the conversation and I wonder.”

“What is it that you wonder?”

“When I told him that I was married he said, and I quote, _Oh honey, no one’s monogamous anymore! Your husband doesn’t need to know._ To begin with I did not appreciate being called _honey_.”

“No, I would not either, _habibi_. What is it about this encounter that’s made you think that you are less than of a sound mind?”

“I cannot, I simply cannot understand the nonchalance of people Nile’s age, or anyone, when it comes to commitment and monogamy. I cannot wrap my mind around… that is… I cannot disassociate love and sex as it seems so many can. Joe, you have been my one and only and after one thousand years together my love for you continues to grow ever deeper and my desire for your body has never waned, but instead only increases in its passion.”

“Perhaps… or rather…” Joe paused and thought, ruminating over everything his husband had just shared. “I’m afraid I am also at a loss. I feel the same as you.”

“I am no fool, I understand jealousy, lust, anger, and all other emotions that lead people to be unfaithful, but at the same time, I cannot. I am confounded by it. I have never wanted anyone else. I remember our first time as if it had happened but yesterday. Your touch, your kiss, your body and mine joining, it was a revelation and I feel as if I was granted admittance to Eden and have never left. I know you knew others before me…”

“I honestly cannot recall them, perhaps the first one but only in the vague idea of him. There weren’t many before you, a handful, no more than I can count on one hand and never with anything resembling love. I knew the moment after we first lay together as lovers that nothing else could ever be so perfect. You’re my only love. You always have been, and you will always be.”

“My only conclusion is that we are perverse, in so much as we have sustained a love, a marriage for a millennium, and feel the same today as we always have. I’ve never questioned our love or our devotion to each other. This idea of being touched by another or me touching them sends a chill through me. Are we the only true soulmates in the world? In all of history?”

“We could be, but surely there have been lovers that have felt as we do – but their lives were not long, or their love tragic and impeded by others.”

Nicky sighed and laid his ear to Joe’s chest, cradling his cup of tea close to his body. “Joe?”

“Yes, my love?”

“I should like to have another wedding, if we may?”

“Nicolò, I would be honoured to pledge myself to you as your husband once again. It’s been at least thirty years since our last wedding, we are long overdue. Do not trouble yourself with the foibles of others. So long as we are in harmony, nothing else matters.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you for listening.”

“Always,” Joe set his tea side and took up his sketchbook, opening it to a fresh page. “Let’s make our plans. Where would you like us to be married? Anywhere in the world.”

“Would you laugh if I said…”

“Malta? Again?”

“Yes, Malta, _per favore_.”

Joe leaned down and kissed the top of his husband’s head. “Malta it is.”


	14. Ástarsaga

There had been moments in Nicky’s life when it seemed as if time had stood still for him. When the world wound down like a clock and stopped. The first had been when he had set foot on the foreign shores of the Holy Land. He’d come to them righteous and emboldened by his steadfast faith in his mission. Another come to him as he and Yusuf had taken their first deaths from each other. As he lay bleeding he’d felt his life ebb from him until all grew dark.

Years later it was the soft brush of his beloved Yusuf’s lips against his that had brought the spinning of the Earth to a halt and all had faded from reality but the man he loved. Now, eons later Nicky watched as his Joe walked cautiously across the rocks and down the stone steps towards the pool. The grand plumes of steam were swirling and dancing into the chilled Icelandic air. They were surrounded by nature on a foggy day that made the air around them thick and moist.

With his swim trunks slung dangerously low on his hips, Nicky was entranced, aroused, captivated, and enthralled. As his love approached, Nicky reached for him with both hands. Inch after inch of Joe’s sculpted, hard muscles were enveloped by the hot water of the natural spring, a veritable paradise in the foreboding frozen landscape. Nothing but snow and ice surrounded them in every direction but the water was scorching and infused deep into their bones. Nicky grabbed hold of Joe by the waist with a ferocity that surprised the other man, causing him to gasp and then moan wantonly as Nicky reeled him in, pressing lascivious open mouthed kisses to his abdomen as he lowered joe into his lap. He sucked and bit into his lover’s nipples, first one then the other, then latched on to the pulse point of his neck, before his lips dragged over his throat as he sought for his mouth to fuck his tongue into. Meanwhile Joe was content to be manipulated as his husband wanted him, giving Nicky anything and everything.

Joe shuddered as Nicky’s hands went down the back of his trunks, pushing them off the cheeks of his rear, squeezing hard enough to bruise as he aligned their fabric coved cocks and ground them against each other, sinking both their bodies down to their necks and their unending kiss became animalistic in its desperation.

“Y’all know we’re _right_ here!” Nile groused, splashing a good handful of water right in their faces, shocking them out of their trance. “It’s a damn public pool!” The couple frowned at her, and at the other three immortals who sat shoulder to shoulder not four feet away from them. “Nicky, get your hands out of his pants. We all know you had sex for like two hours before breakfast this morning. The walls at the hotel might be insulted against the cold, but they sure as hell ain’t sound proof.”

The team had finished up a job Reykjavík and decided a couple of days to enjoy the sights of Iceland were in order. Nile had never been, nor had Quyhn or Booker. Andy had lived on the island nation shortly before the coming of the Norsemen and left not too long after. They’d seen some glorious waterfalls, hiked the wide, vast rocky plains, ate unique seafood and cheese,s and then decided to partake of in one of the more luxurious hot springs available.

“I don’t mind watching,” Quyhn spoke, her eyes commanding as her hand stroked Andy’s thigh under the water. “Do continue.”

Nile elbowed her in the ribs. “There’s like two hundred other people here!” Nile gestured all around the little nook they’d found for themselves, a natural formation in the rock with places to sit. “It’s not the time or place for an orgy.”

“I mean… it could be,” Booker suggested. Nile glared at him. They might be dating now after a couple of decades of knowing each other, but she was not going to put up with any sass. “Sorry, love.” He looked appropriately admonished but there was an amusement in his eye that made her want to both smack him and kiss him. Booker had come a long way since they’d met and she had come to him first in friendship, then over time a little something more. He was incredibly sweet and charming when he put in the effort and there had been a lot of effort since he’d given up drinking and worked through all the heavy emotions surrounding his past. He’d proven himself to be a fundamentally good man and partner. She was proud of him and that had paved the way for a new and exciting romance between them.

Nicky sighed, deflated and sat himself down on his bench, curling around Joe and pouting. “Hot springs are very romantic,” he sighed.

“They are,” Nile agreed. “When they’re private. It’s been a thousand years and you guys can’t go a day without screwing each other senseless if we’re not on a mission.”

“You’re still young, sister,” Joe spoke. “When you and Booker have had a century together and your love has grown as deep and all encompassing as ours you’ll learn that you crave him like air in the lungs, water in a parched throat, food in the empty stomach…”

“I can hope, but…” She looked at Booker and smiled, to which he brightened, his blue eyes shimmering with affection. He really did worship the ground she walked on. “But, I’ll still have enough sense not to try and have sex in public. In a hot spring. Surrounded by tourists.” Booker’s face fell.

“Hey guys, if you’re _that_ hungry for it,” Andy began, pointing off in the distance, “Over that outcropping of rocks, the ones shape kind of like a cat? Just over that ridge, there’s a system of caves with private springs. Everything’s interconnected underground so it should be just like this only it’s a no-go zone for tourists. You’ll probably lose your dicks to hypothermia before you get there, but it depends on how _hard_ up you are, I guess.”

“What do you think… it’s not more than half a kilometer,” Nicky estimated as Joe scrutinized the horizon. “We’ll run fast.”

“We can make it,” Joe affirmed and they were off, wading through the water to the edge of the spring and the promise of a quiet place to fuck.

As their half naked shapes shrank smaller and smaller the further away they sprinted, a sly, wicked grin formed on Andy’s face.

“Andy,” Nile questioned, “There’s no caves are there?”

“Nothing but a barren wasteland. They’re totally going to lose their dicks.”


	15. Lock Down

“Nothing from Copley today,” Nile sighed as she sat down at the dinner table. Andy followed shortly there after to take her seat. Joe was uncorking a bottle of wine while Nicky placed the frankly divine smelling savoury pies, fresh from the oven, on the table. He’d been cooking all day to stave off boredom, a boredom they all felt acutely.

“It’s all right, Nile,” Nicky soothed. “This will not last forever.” He took his seat at the head of the table. “Now the first is white fish with potatoes, dill and sharp cheddar. The second is traditional chicken with carrots, peas, and potatoes with herbs. The third is a Quebecois Tourtiere with beef. The forth is a Quiche Lorraine, but with a cheese and crust topping. What would you like? Bit of each?”

“Nicky, if I wasn’t already your husband I’d asked you to marry me,” Joe grinned. Nicky preened.

“I just want this damn pandemic to be over with already,” Nile groused. “I am _so_ not a fan of living through major historical events.” The silence that followed, along with three pairs of eyes staring straight at her made Nile realize she had definitely not read the room before speaking. They were segregated from society at a chateau in the Swiss Alps, a veritable paradise, living off the land and the provisions from the nearby farms. The world had practically ground to a halt and there were no missions for them, no travel, but they were safe. “I just put my foot in it, didn’t I?”

“I’ve literally lived through every pandemic in the history of mankind,” Andy spoke. “Literally every single one.”

Nile’s forehead nearly dropped to the table. “Right, right, I’m an idiot, got it.”

“Remember that time you got the Bubonic Plague, Nicky? You were oozing everywhere!” Joe laughed, kicking his husband’s shin under the table.

“Joe, if you please…” Nicky protested.

“No, no, I want to hear this!” Nile perked up. “Did he have boils and everything?”

“Oh, he did! Everywhere, more than the average peasant. He was dead in two days! I think it was a record for the village we were stuck in. He looked like he was melting.”

“He looked liked like fruit pie someone had stepped on,” Andy provided. Nicky glared at her.

“What kind of pie?” Nile asked, a grin spreading across her face.

Nicky dropped the cutlery he’d been about to cut into one of the pies with and they clattered against the table. “Andromache, we’re at the dinner table!” he threatened.

“If I was going to take a guess, probably a gooseberry and raspeberry one,” Joe mused. “Green, like the pus seeping from his boils, but with red streaked through it. There was a lot of blood. I mean most of his extremities had gone necrotic, but his beautiful face had gunk running out of it like a faucet. Can you believe he got petulant that I wouldn’t kiss him? Or cuddle him? I mean, I love this man with the whole of my soul, but that was never going to happen.”

“Joe, do cease this instant, or you’ll be sleeping alone tonight, and for many nights after this!” Joe opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it immediately. Under the table he snuck his socked foot behind Nickey’s calf to caress it in apology. “Nile, the Bubonic Plague is one of the most excruciating, torturous ways to die and the only reason Andromache, Quyhn and my ungrateful husband avoided catching it was because I locked myself in a turret to suffer and die alone so they might be spared. Joe was on the outside of the door sobbing himself hoarse, begging to be allowed in so that he might die with me. Frankly, it was embarrassing. I was embarrassed for him. It was pathetic, really.”

Joe sighed.

“He’s right actually,” Andy conceded. “You left scratches in a two hundred pound solid oak door.”

Joe reached across the table and offered Nicky his hand. “My apologies, Nicolò, my heart. I was only making fun to give our sister a laugh. I meant no harm.”

Nicky thought for a moment and took Joe’s offered hand, closing it around his. “You are forgiven, but barely.”

Joe turned to Nile. “It was truly hell, Nile. I cannot describe in words quite how horrific it was. This latest pandemic, another in a long line of them throughout antiquity, is frightening and upsetting, but with science today we will have a vaccine in record time, the world will adapt to a new normal and it will be a footnote in history. The world always changes, sometimes that change is so slow as to not perceive it as it happens and other times it comes upon us like a tidal wave. But, humanity endures, we endure.”

“We get to ride this one out in luxury and watch shit on Netflix,” Andy added, giving her protégé and encouraging smile. “And for the record he was definitely a blueberry pie, there was a lot of necrosis… black blood. So gross.”

“Andromache!”


	16. Comfort

Nile cocked her head to one side and examined them closely, then stretched her neck to get a further scrutinizing view. Andy snored softly on the cot between hers and the one Joe and Nicky shared. The two men were, as was usual, curled up together sleeping soundly. This particular safe house was cold and damp and she completely understood the need to generate warmth between them, to the point where she was ready to sneak under the covers with Andy, but the two men just looked so bizarrely configured that she couldn’t quite fathom how they were comfortable.

Nicky lay on his left side facing the door, and Joe was behind him with his back against the wall. Joe had commandeered Nicky’s heavy black hoodie and she couldn’t see his face at all from where it was buried at the back of Nicky’s neck. The hood was pulled up and over his head. Joe’s arm was draped over Nicky’s waist, but tonight it had also snuck up under the thermal waffle shirt he was wearing. It was tight, so it was easy to see that Joe’s hand was splayed over Nicky’s bare chest. Joe’s leg was fit tight between Nicky’s legs, wedged firmly between his upper thighs. Both men wore sweatpants, so there nothing left to the imagination in that department and Joe’s knee to Nicky’s man bits were obviously creating some sort of friction, either that or Joe _really_ was the luckiest man on Earth.

For Nicky’s part, his right leg was limp over the back of Joe’s, making the hard muscles of his abdomen stretch out. Their socked feet, all four of them, were touching each others’. She hadn’t noticed at first, but she now saw how Nicky’s left hand under their shared pillow was holding Joe’s, whose arm was surely asleep under the weight of Nicky on it and the contortionist’s angle it was at. Nicky’s right arm was the only thing that was free and that was only because he wanted to always be at the ready to reach for the gun that was also under the pillow. Presently however it was laid along the length of Joe’s with Nicky’s shirt between them, Nicky’s hand over Joe’s, over his heart.

She huffed a breath and Nicky opened one eye. She immediately felt embarrassed at having been caught staring.

“Nile?” his whispered in the near dark. “Did you have a nightmare?”

She shook her head. “No, just a bit cold.”

“I have another hoodie in my bag, if you like,” he offered. “Or there are more blankets in the closet, they may smell a little old though. Andy won’t mind if you want to share her bed.”

“The hoodie would be great, thank you.”

When she didn’t move, Nicky raised his eyebrow. “You look like you have a question.”

“No, not really… it’s just.” She paused and looked them over. “How is that comfortable? The way you guys sleep. It’s the same every night.”

Nicky smiled indulgently. “Nile, this is the only way that _is_ comfortable. Well, except for a few others, but Joe and I would have to be alone for those,” he teased. “Nile, he and I have been sleeping together for nearly one thousand years. Joe is slow to wake and I am quick, so I must be between him and danger. There was a time when we slept back to back beside our fire and he was killed once when bandits came upon us during the night and we were caught unprepared. I will not experience that again if I may help it. Also, he is my night, my blanket of deeply coloured skies and the stars. He protects my heart as I protect his body. When our souls leave us for the final time, we’re to be placed in the earth just like this.”

“Dude, that’s a bit heavy. I was just worried you’d get a leg cramp or something.”

Nicky laughed, the sound rumbling low in his chest and his nose giving a little snort. “Perhaps yes. I don’t think we could truly rest any other way to be honest. I can’t sleep without him near. Besides, on nights like this he is a godsend, an absolute inferno of body heat."

“You guys are pretty cute, I gotta admit. You make me believe in love, as corny as that sounds.”

“I love him more with each day that passes and continue to do so without measure. He truly is my everything. I don’t know what your future may hold for you, dear sister, but I hope you find what we have with someone. You deserve it. It sustains me like nothing else could ever hope to.”

Nile said nothing more, but let his words sink in before she walked over to Nicky’s bag and retrieved the proffered hoodie. She looked back over at the two men saw that Nicky was already asleep again, but now with a smile on his face. She couldn’t help but smile in return at the sight. What she did not see however was the reason for his smile as Joe’s face was obscured by the hood he wore as he pressed kiss after soft kiss to the back to Nicky’s neck, having listened to the entirety of their conversation. His palm pressed more firmly against Nicky’s breast while his thumb caressed his skin. He pitched his hips closer against his husband’s rear. He tucked his leg further up the infinitesimal amount of space left between Nicky’s thighs, and under their pillow their fingers threaded together. Slowly but surely they fell back asleep under the fierce and attendant comfort of their embrace.  
  
  
  
***

I totally couldn't get the idea of Marwan having his leg wedged up between Luca's after seeing this post on Tumblr. <https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/scarlet-welly-boots/629051221175681024>


	17. Devotion

“ _Habibi_? What are you doing?” Nicky asked a tinge of worry in his voice. He hadn’t seen his husband behave in a such a manner… ever, really.

“Decluttering,” Joe replied, not looking up from his activities, tossing another stack of pages on the fire he’d started in the stone pit in their back yard. Their house in Malta had always been a sanctuary to them, situated between the ocean and the hills, a perfect escape from all the turmoil of the world. In all the time they’d been here on this respite, Nicky knew Joe hadn’t settled. Not like he usually did. As nearly a year had worn on, they’d been happy. He and Joe had experienced many special moments and Joe had smiled, but now as he watched his husband toss mountains of sketches and paintings into the flames, Nicky knew something was very wrong.

“This is not clutter, Yusuf, this is your art. Please don’t destroy anymore.”

“You can keep what you want, but it’s just trash. I don’t feel any connection to it. It’s clouded my brain, having all this around. It means nothing to me. My studio feels like a prison, so it needs to go. What’s the point of keeping things that give me no joy?”

“My love, this is your artwork, your history, it’s you. Why do you wish to destroy it?”

Joe tensed and crumple more pages between his hands. “Because… because… because I haven’t been able to draw a single line the entire time we’ve been here! This! All this!” He gestured wildly at the stacks of sketchbooks and the haphazard piles of drawings. “All this is a reminder of the person I was before Booker went and fucking destroyed everything! It’s killed my muse. It’s dead. Like you said, it’s _me_ , and he killed it. I can’t make my fingers work. I have a thousand ideas swirling around inside my head and nothing will come out of my hands. I look at all this and all it does is cause me pain. I can’t escape the pain because I used to use my art to do that, and now I can’t so all there is, is pain.”

Just as Nicky went to reach for him, his soul in torment at seeing Joe so bereaved, Joe scooped up the lot and tossed it into the fire before he stormed off down towards the beach, leaving Nicky in his wake. Nicky felt tears stain his cheeks as he watched Joe disappear. He nearly plunged his hands into the flames to salvage what he could, but everything, hundreds of years of Joe’s precious, beautiful expressions, were already in engulfed.

He gave Joe space for a time before following after him. He was sat on the rocks overlooking the beach. Nicky took a seat beside him but kept his distance.

“I barely feel connected to myself, to you, to anything,” Joe spoke, his voice void of emotion.

“Today yes, but not always. Two days ago we were making love and you cried after you came inside me and told me you’d never loved me more or felt more loved by me. You said…”

“I meant it, then. Today I feel empty.”

“It comes and goes in waves for me too. Booker’s betrayal is the deepest of wounds, deeper than even the loss of Quyhn. You may not recover for a long time. I know I will not. But, you are not alone. Even if you never draw or paint again. I will love no matter who or what you are.”

“I’ve tried so hard to move forwards, so regain a semblance of myself, but it’s out of my reach. For all my centuries, through all the worst of it, I could submerse myself in my art and keep a flame burning inside me to keep the last of myself warm, but he snuffed it out. I am angry and sad. I’m lost and I’m depressed and I cannot see a way out of it.”

Nicky reached across the divide between them and covered Joe’s hand will his. “Then, I will stay here with you, constant and devoted until you find your way. I will stay here with you, even if you never do.”  
  
  
  
***

Thank you as ever for reading! I have a new long-fic if anyone's interested: [Threshold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26829967/chapters/65457271)


	18. First Impressions

Through the dense canopy of trees came the unmistakable sound of falling water. Both Yusuf and Nicolò urged their horses onwards at a quicker pace, both men eager to finally rest after several long, hard days of travel. They were sure their horses were too. Traversing the Kingdom of Hungary in the Summer was pleasant enough, but their road was long, following after the two women that haunted their dreams most nights. They knew they were searching for them too. It was only a matter of time before they finally crossed paths. In the last decade or so since the two men had first met and _killed_ each other, much had changed between them. While their friendship had been tentative, their love had come swiftly and naturally. They had been completely helpless in the face of it and soon nights together by their campfire were no longer about keeping warm, but devouring each other with a passion the likes of which the world had seldom seen.

Then, the dreams came and they left the Holy Land.

The sight of the waterfall, its placid pool and the cascading but meandering stream had Nicolò all but weeping for joy at the sight of it. He hopped down from his horse before it had even come to a stop and began stripping himself of his clothes, tossing them off and caring not where they landed. Yusuf chuckled to himself, amused by the sigh of Nicolò’s bare bottom racing towards the water and him diving in only emerge a moment later, pearls of water dripping from his short beard and long hair. The smile on his face was ecstatic. Yusuf took his time while Nicolò swam, watering the horses before tethering them to a tree; taking their swords and coin and moving them closer to the water should anyone come upon them; and finding their bar of olive oil soap before removing his own clothes and wading into the water to be greeted by his love’s open arms and a kiss that left him breathless.

They hadn’t bathed properly in weeks and the rivers they’d come upon weren’t suitable for swimming, only taking care of their needs by the shores. It had also been bitterly cold until the season had finally turned. They washed each other thoroughly and basked in every blessed moment.

Coming to shore they decided to make camp for the night, letting the horses eat their fill of sweet grass as they washed their clothes and hung them to dry over the branches of a nearby tree. They ate bread and cheese and plucked tart apples from above. They gathered wood for the fire they’d start after dark, and laid out their bed roll to repose upon and relax, never having seen a more perfect picture of nature for them to enjoy together. It wasn’t long of course before Nicolò got that knowing look in his eye that rendered Yusuf utterly helpless in the face of it. Naked and reclined on his back, Yusuf watched in rapt attention as his love retrieved their bottle of oil from his saddle bag and straddled Yusuf’s thighs.

“I love you, Nicolò, _hayati_ ,” Yusuf mused, even as Nicolò prepared them. “I love you so much, I…”

“Shh, I know,” Nicolò soothed him leaning forwards to brush his lips across his love’s while at the same time slowly lowering himself on Yusuf’s cock. Nicolò placed his hands on Yusuf’s chest as they slowly joined together, Nicolò gasping and breathing deeply throughout. “You would think after all this time that I would be used to your size, but it is always so much at first.”

“You’re one to talk, I still feel you inside me for days after.”

“We are both very lucky men then, eh?” Nicolò leaned forwards and licked across the seam of where Yusuf’s lips were pressed together. “But I love it, the burn as I take you inside me, the slow, thick stretch of you filling me, and then the heat of you, there is nothing else like it under Heaven. My love, you are perfect.”

From that moment on they were an exalted worship of each other, moving slowly but with purpose and kissing with such fervor their lips were left swollen and bruised. Flesh met flesh, nails scored deep on skin, and sweat mingled and slickened their movements. The made love with wild abandon, knowing they were the old two people around for miles with an eternity before them to spend together. When the breaking point came both men cried out, their souls on fire with ecstatic release, and then cleaved to each other in the aftermath.

“Andromache!” came a sudden and boisterous cry, “I have found them!”

Nicolò cried out as he was toppled off Yusuf, who immediately sought for and took up his sword as he scrambled to his feet. Nicolò took a moment to respond in kind and held aloft his longsword at the woman standing not ten feet from them crunching on a freshly picked apple. It was her, one of the two from their dreams. Her black hair was braided down her back and she was robed in red, weighed down with many weapons. She smiled at them with mirth.

“Are they armed?” came the distant reply, which echoed through the trees.

“Yes! They both carry swords. Rather impressive swords. The pale one’s is long and broad, the darker one’s is long as well, and equal in width though it is curved.” The smirk on her face immediately informed the men that she was not speaking of their blades and they lowered their swords and moved their hands in front of themselves to hide their modesty as they stood up to their full heights and in unison scowled at the newcomer. She laughed at them heartily.

The other woman, having seemingly come out of nowhere dropped down the from the trees. Garbed all in black with a labrys strapped to her back and her hair free and wild, she took in the sight before her and winked at them.

“Nice to finally meet you both, my name is Andromache, the Scythian, and this is Quyhn, of a land in the East known as Xích Quỷ.” The two men stood dumbfounded. “And you are?”

Yusuf gave his head a shake and nudged at his love.

“Nicolò di Genova, and he is Yusuf al-Kaysani. He is mine, I am his.”

“Yes, we know, we dreamt of you. Do you two ever go a day without fucking? Honestly, it’s been nothing buy sex every night for almost a decade! You were enemies for what? Six weeks? What’s the water like?” Confused, the two men exchanged a look, and then their eyes widened as the woman now known to them as Andromache laid down her labrys and took off her clothes. “Never mind! I’ll find out for myself.” And with that she ran and dove into the pool.

“Wait for me, Andromache!” Quyhn laughed as she too stripped naked and ran towards the inviting water. “Come join us Yusuf and Nicolò!”

“You’re both filthy with each other, get in! Don’t be cowards, haven’t you every been around a naked woman before?”

“No?” Nicolò responded.

Yusuf shook his head. “I’ve never wanted a woman,” he provided.

“Good, then you can be our brothers!” Quyhn called back. “We promise no to drown you, even though we know you will come back to life.”

“I wouldn’t mind another swim, my love,” Nicolò spoke. “I don’t think they mean us any harm.”

“Of course we don’t!” Andromache spoke, swimming closer to shore. “We are the only four immortals in the world. Quyhn is right, you’re our brothers and we are your sisters. On our honour, we offer you friendship. We’ll tell you all we know. But in the meantime, you guys just had sex, and…” She made a gesture with her hand at the mess that lingered on Yusuf’s stomach and between Nicolò’s thighs. It was then that the realization came upon them and they were suddenly quite mortified. Sheepishly they advanced together into the water, looking pointedly at their newfound sister.

“Eternity is going to be _challenging_ with that one around,” Yusuf mumbled under his breath.

“I heard that! And boys? You have _no_ idea.”  
  
  


***

If anyone's in the mood for a spooky story for the Halloween season, do check out my latest multi-chapter: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/26829967/chapters/65457271>


	19. Together Or Not At All

_In which Yusuf, Nicolò, and apparently the author are drama queens._  
  


Yusuf al-Kaysani had never run from anything in his life, especially not a battle, even one he knew he could not win. But this night, he had. He’d fled their campsite. He’d fled Andromache’s bitter words and Quyhn’s matter of fact retelling of the tale. Worst of all however, he’d left his Nicolò behind. He’d felt as if he’s no control over the compulsion as too many emotions had overwhelmed him all at once. He’d moved swiftly and without direction, alone into the darkness. He’d ignored Nicolò’s pleas to come back or to wait for him, but Yusuf was deaf and blind to everything except the anticipation of the unsurmountable grief that had consumed him.

He stopped eventually. He did not know how long he’d been moving, but he’d come to a cliff and the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below at brought him to heel. The moon was low and gibbous, it’s colour that of flames, the light of which stretched to the horizon, dancing and glittering on the waves. There he went to the earth, awash in pain and wept bitterly with his face in his hands. He wept until he’d broken the night with his wet, heaving sobs.

He had calmed by the time Nicolò found him, sat crossed legged on the rocky precipice of the cliff, his eyes rimmed red and tears still streaming down his cheeks. He felt his love’s eyes on him, many feet behind him staring a hole though his back and into his heart. Yusuf was paralyzed until Nicolò advanced swiftly, then bodily hauled him to his feet and away from the cliff’s edge, to collapse back against a nearby tree and bring him down into his lap, holding him so tightly Yusuf could scarcely breathe as Nicolò too began to weep.

If only Andromache and Quyhn had not seen fit to tell them of Lykon, then they could’ve gone on in blissful, reckless ignorance indefinitely. They’d have lived without fear, without reservation, but now the shadows felt more sinister and every day would be one step closer to their seemingly inevitable separation and Yusuf had simply been destroyed by the knowledge. Yusuf couldn’t help himself from imagining the moment when the love of his life, his very soul, was taken from him. He imagined all the ways Nicolò could be killed. Every waking moment forwards would be steeped with dread.

He looked up and his eyes met Nicolò’s pain filled ones and then they were kissing and sobbing into each other’s mouths. All the time they’d wasted as enemies could’ve been spent in their lovers’ embrace. He knew the notion was preposterous as their love had been hard won after they’d first put down their swords and begun a tentative companionship. But now in hindsight, they’d wasted years.

“Nicolò, Nicolò, Nicolò,” Yusuf chanted between gasps of breath and the devouring hunger of their kisses.

“ _Sono qui, amore mio,_ ” Nicolò assured him, even as he too fell apart, hands too rough and desperate as he held Yusuf. “My Yusuf.”

“What will we do? When the final death comes for one of us?”

“It must come for us both.” Nicolò’s words came out as a snarl. “I dare God to try and tear us apart. We go together, or not at all. I aim to keep you until that last star as burnt itself from night sky.”

“I wish I had your conviction, all I have is my fear.”

“I share your fear, every bit as much, _hayati_. But I am also angry. Angry that this gift can be so easily taken as it was given. Better to have left me dead at the gates of Jerusalem than given me you only to take you away without warning. No, no Yusuf we must defy everyone, Andromache, Quyhn, Lykon, and any other who suggests that one of us will die before the other. Try, for me, yes?”

“Anything for you. I love you, with everything I am, I love you.”

“And I you. I wish to tell you, so you know you are not alone in your reaction. I stumbled after I lost sight of you in the dark, and broke my finger when I brace myself for the fall and hit a rock instead of the earth. Then, after my finger had bent itself back into its place and was healed, I beat my fists on that rock until all my fingers had been broken.”

“Nicolò…”

“Together, Yusuf, together or not at all.”

“Together, Nicolò, together or not at all.”


	20. The Fig Incident

The shadow slowly crept up the length of his body and Joe knew his proverbial goose was cooked. His husband stood over him with a disapproving look on his face. “Hello, dear one of my heart,” Nicky spoke, the disappointment in his voice abundantly clear.

“Hello, husband, light of my soul,” Joe replied, feigning nonchalance, looking up at his love from his supine spot on the ground. “May I help you with anything?”

“Hmm, help me? No thank you. I came to ask you if you needed any assistance yourself.”

“Oh, no, dearest. I am fine. I just need a few moments.”

“Yes, a few moments will be all you need to heal from, what is it? A broken back? Judging by the way your elbow is bent, I would say your arm is broken. Also, should your ankle be at that angle? But yes, I’m sure you’re _fine_. It’s not like you had a choice in waiting until I got back from the market to pick the figs from our tree? I mean, I certain didn’t tell you quite explicitly to _not_ use the ladder from the shed that is nearly 200 years old and likely to break. I didn’t intend to borrow a proper, new, modern ladder from our lovely neighbours in exchange for some of our figs? I’m sure I didn’t. And most of all, I didn’t say that we should do it together so that one can hold that lovely proper, new, modern ladder because our tree is so very tall and it can get quite precarious so far up high. Oh my, are those sap burns on your arms and face? Made all the worse by the scorching heat of the Maltese sun because you didn’t wear longs sleeves or gloves like I surely forgot to suggest. I’m sure you didn’t recall what happened in the 18th century where you were left weeping for a little longer than what was considered appropriate because your skin had blistered. No, no, this is all my fault, clearly, as I neglected to warn you of any of this. Shame upon me, my family, my cow…”

“We don’t have a cow.”

“No we don’t, Joe, but if we did, I would have brought shame upon it.”

“All right, you’ve made your point. In my defense, I filled four buckets before you got back. Now you don’t have to worry about doing the job.”

“Yes, my love, but I wanted you to be safe and I wanted to help. You’re lucky our neighbours are still in town. I saw them at the market, we’re invited to dinner tomorrow. Mirko is going fishing with his brother, and Zainab promised to make her famous fig tart for dessert, you know, from the figs from our tree that were meant to be picked together so accidents like this wouldn’t happen?”

“Enough Nicky, I screwed up. I admit it.” Joe groaned as his ankle snapped back into place along with his elbow. He tested his spine and found it whole again, the pain fading away. As he went to sit up, Nicky was instantly at his side helping him to his feet, and then into his arms.

“I’m sorry you go hurt, my heart.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you. I was just trying to save you the trouble.”

“I appreciate it, but I wanted to help. I would’ve enjoyed the time, talking about how we planted the tree almost two hundred years ago and it’s still going strong. It’s _our_ tree, our fruit, our home.”

“ _Habibi_ , how sweet you are. We can take the harvest inside and make the compote and jam together.”

“Just like we do every summer we’re here.” They drew back from their hug and kissed, slow and deep, then made their way inside their home together.


	21. Saviour

“You’ll survive no matter what Yusuf, do not forgot. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. We should be there soon,” Nicky shouted above the howling of the wind, hoping his voice was heard over the noise and the cut of the snow as it tumbled down on them, heavy and unrelenting. Born and raised in a primarily arid country had made Joe fully adaptable to hot climates. But a blizzard in the dead of winter in the mountain regions of northern Kingdoms near Nicolò’s birthplace? That was decidedly not to his tastes. They were meant to meet Andromache and Quyhn in Turin but after awaiting them for more than a month, they decided to move on towards Nicolò’s city of Genova. The winter in the North was unexpectedly harsh this year and the coast would surely offer them some relief.

Trudging through mountainous terrain in the dead of night was incredibly dangerous with clear skies. The unexpected storm had made their travels nearly impossible, but they were too far gone to turn aroud. Splitting up with the women had not been ideal, but when they’d crossed warring factions in the Eastern part of the land, it had to be done to throw the bounty seekers off their trail. They went in opposite directions, Yusuf and Nicolò towards the mountains, Andromache and Quyhn the long way around through the valleys. However it should not have taken more than a week longer for the women to arrive in Turin. The men feared for their safety, no matter how capable they knew their sisters to be. The men had chosen the more difficult option, not expecting the weather to become so severe an unflinching hellscape. This monstrous winter was unlike any Nicolò had ever seen. He had experienced snow plenty during his childhood, but Genova had always been fairly temperate. Joe however was a child of the sun and had always lived by the sea. Yusuf hated the snow. Yusuf was miserable, and Nicolò was therefore also miserable.

He slowed his pace and let Yusuf move beyond walking side by side with him so that he was out front, allowing Nicolò to follow and place an encouraging hand in the small of Yusuf’s back. It was another hour before they reached the monastery Nicolò prayed still stood. At the least they’d be able to take refuge from the winds in its ruins. They had no horses and while their provisions of food were plentiful, their clothing was inadequate to withstand the current onslaught from Mother Nature. They couldn’t see much in the dark, blinded by the night and snow, but until they at least found a copse of trees to take shelter near, they had to keep going.

Every step seemed to pain Yusuf and Nicolò knew it. His love was not faring well in the least. They should never have left Turin. Nicolò kept his hand to Yusuf’s back to urge him on, but when he felt him slump unceremoniously into the knee deep snow, Nicolò began to panic. There was little time to waste after that. He knew his love would return to him if he perished, but he did not want him to suffer any longer. With incredible strength born of sheer determination and devotion, Nicolò heaved the other man from the snow and up over his shoulder. Grunting with the effort, he bore the weight of him. On shaking, slow moving legs, Nicolò pressed onwards and onwards.

After a length of time Nicolò couldn’t begin to quantify, he spied a shape in the distance, unable to mistake it for anything else but shelter. With a cry the likes of which he never made outside the heat of battle, he powered towards it, finding himself at last before an abandoned shack that was likely used as a store for grain or a barn for animals. He pushed his way through the door into the pitch black of the small room, finding it barely holding itself together and the wind whispering through the thin slats of wood that made it up. It was a small mercy, but a mercy nonetheless. In fact in that instance, Nicolò thought it a genuine miracle.

He deposited Yusuf on a pile of damp hay, the scent of which was sour, but he ignored it as he blindly searched his beloved’s pack for a candle and the flint to light the straw if he could. After several agonizing minutes full of failure, he succeeded and with the quickly dying flame of the straw he gave life to the candle’s wick. Finding a corner were the tiny flame might be safe from the wind, he placed it securely and Nicolò searched frantically for anything he could make them a fire with. He sent a prayer of thanks to the heavens at the sight of an old wheelbarrow which he smashed to pieces with his feet and bare hands before building the remains into a steeple to set to burning.

Success was grated to him as the wood began to eventually do more than smoulder. He extinguished the candle and dropped on his backside into the straw beside his unconscious lover. He spared himself only a minute’s rest as he watched the fire come to life. He was beyond exhausted, sweat dripping off the end of his nose and his muscles on fire, but his suffering was nothing compared to Yusuf’s. He turned to his dear heart and began to undress him, peeling off the wool and linen layers that had been soaked through by the snow. Upon removing his gloves, Nicolò’s face crumble in remorse and anguish. Yusuf’s fingers were purple and frozen to the touch and upon the removal of his boots, his toes were found to be in a similar state. They should never have crossed the sea. They should’ve stayed in Yusuf’s homeland. Laying out his cloak by the fire and their clothing over the rails of the one stall, he maneuvered Yusuf naked body as close to the fire as he dared, rubbing his hands vigorously over Yusuf’s body to encourage the flow of blood back to his limbs. Yusuf didn’t stir, but his body eventually relaxed and was no longer as rigid as it had been.

Overwrought and bone tired, Nicolò eventually molded himself against the length of Yusuf’s body and tucked his knees behind his as he placed Yusuf’s cloak over their lower halves. The fire roared and the smoke escaped by the gaps in the wood near the roof. Unable to keep his eyes open a moment longer, Nicolò fell heavily into slumber, holding his love in his arms and praying their good turn of fortune would continue with the dawn.

Yusuf came back to himself slowly, wondering in his barely alert consciousness if he had died and was crawling back to life in miniscule increments. He was slow to wake, incredibly slow, but the first thing he became aware was that he was no longer as cold as the grave. In fact he was quite suffused with warmth. When he finally opened his eyes he was met by the sight of flames. His next realization was that Nicolò’s sweaty body was plastered against his back. The memories of their perilous trudge through the snow came back to him. He had been delirious and his only tether to the world had been his beloved’s hand in the small of his back urging him on. But, he’d inevitably slipped away into oblivion and his dear, treasured Nicolò had brought him back from it. He looked at their surroundings, surmised they were in a barn and that the snow continued to blanket the night.

“Allah, I do not question your wisdom in this journey you have set me upon, but I thank you to the bottom of my soul that I do not travel these perilous roads alone. I do not know what I have done to deserve the grace of your angel on earth in Nicolò di Genova, but I thank you for him,” Yusuf whispered into the night. Nicolò stirred and pulled him more securely back against his chest, but he did not wake. Yusuf smiled and closed his eyes and relaxed against his saviour, his true mate, his all.


End file.
